


Fermata

by difficultheart



Series: broken chords can sing a little [4]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Mythology, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Smut, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, no beta we die like men, non-canon compliant, post-fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:22:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 64,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25999690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/difficultheart/pseuds/difficultheart
Summary: fermata (n) - a symbol used in sheet music to indicate that a note should be held longer than its standard durationa collection of side fics and AUs connected to the Broken Chords Can Sing a Little series (What the Water Gave Me, Mad Dog, and Red Sun)
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Original Character(s), Jason Todd/Original Character(s), Tim Drake/Original Character(s)
Series: broken chords can sing a little [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1884304
Comments: 22
Kudos: 73





	1. Gotham Is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gotham is many things, to many people.
> 
> (set post-Red Sun)

_Gotham is…_

Dick Grayson sits in the car of one of the many trains that run from Gotham to Bludhaven, still bleary, still trying to wake up. The commute each morning is long, hard, a test of his dedication to the life he’s chosen for himself. But it is worth it. Worth it to wake up each morning next to the woman he loves, listen to her gentle breathing, feel her warm skin and smooth scales. Worth it to see the brothers and sisters he loves more frequently than on holidays and birthdays, to watch the youngest of them grow and forge their own paths.

The train emerges from the tunnel, and the commute is worth it. To go from darkness into the sprawling chaos of Midtown Gotham, to see the first rays of the sun wash over the looming buildings. He loves the view, likely would have stayed in Bludhaven and just come for visits, if it weren’t for that beautiful skyline. He remembers it from when he was Robin, swinging above it all, a freedom in the air that he could never find on the ground. Dick Grayson has always been a free spirit, never wanted to be tied down. It is what made his relationship with Bruce Wayne so strained, what led him to quit being Robin and set down his own path as Nightwing.

But now, as he gets older, he thinks about the quiet comfort of having those bonds. Not ones that want to tie him down. But ones that keep him from flying too high, from losing perspective. Dick Grayson is not grounded. He never can be, will never allow himself to be. But when he wants to sink just a little closer to the earth, rest his wings for a while, he has a home to do it in.

To Dick Grayson, Gotham is home. The death of his childhood and the birth of the man he became. A dark place, a place where his parents were taken from him, where he was grounded and tied down. But also a place of hope, where he can swing through the skyline and protect the children beneath him, keep them from becoming like him. Gotham is where his beloved is, a city as difficult and cruel as she can be, but still full of love, once you get to know her well enough.

He watches the city stretched out before him, the bold colors of day banishing the dark. He thinks of the ring he saw in a jeweler’s window a few days ago. Sipping at his coffee, Dick Grayson thinks of how beautiful that ring would look on Koshka’s finger.

\---

_Gotham is…_

Tim Drake slumps in his office in WayneTech R&D. He is exhausted, running himself thin. There are still loose ends on the cases he has been working as Red Robin, questions that still need answers. He is uncertain of how long it has been since he’s slept. A few days, at the very least. His tie is on crooked and the rest of the department knows that when he is on his fifth cup of coffee for the day, it’s best to leave him alone. There are emails to answer, schematics to look over, patents to send up to Legal. There never seems to be enough hours in the day.

There is a soft knock at the door. He bites back a growl, gets ready to tell one of his people to _fuck off, he’s busy._ But it is not one of his people who let themselves in. Areum smiles, that wolfish edge to it, as she lets herself in. And just like that, Tim feels at peace. All it takes is her smile, although he would never tell her. She is merciless when she teases him, and much as he loves her for it, he doesn’t need to give her more ammunition. Free for the afternoon, she tells him, placing bags of take-out from the Korean place just down the street.

If it were not for her, the way she barges in and demands that he take care of himself, Tim would not have had a proper lunch. Hell, it’s the first time he’s had a proper lunch in days. She sits at his desk across from him, pulls out containers of kimbap and bulgogi and kimchi and bibimbap and more food than either of them could eat in one sitting. Leftovers, for him to set in the fridge so he’s not starving himself while she isn’t around. Her backpack sits in one corner of the room, her jacket tossed on top of it.

As she tells him about her day, about her upcoming exams and her plans for graduation, Tim feels energized. While he eats, lets her take care of him, he thinks about all of the strange circumstances that had led them to meet. It would have been all too easy for them to have never crossed paths, as large as the city is.

But to Tim, Gotham is a forge. A place to rebuild oneself, to take in different elements and make yourself whole. He still does not understand the darker parts, the kind of poverty that gives birth to the very criminals he tracks down. But he is trying, letting Areum take him by the hand to gently guide him. Empathy does not come naturally to him, but he is trying. And he thinks that he is ready to take another step, to see her smile every morning and do his best to take care of her, too. The extra key is in his pocket. But he thinks he will wait. The right moment will come, eventually.

\---

_Gotham is…_

Jason Todd bandages his knuckles, the sink still full of blood and discarded tissues. These beatings are not new to him. He has always been a brawler, always known the streets and what it takes to survive in them better than anyone else in the family. It is dark, and it is rough. But he is there to face down the darkness, to teach lessons to those who need it beaten into them. There is still so much work for him to do. So many women and children and people down on their luck who need freedom from the predators that keep them cowering in the dark.

The door opens and she steps in. A little ray of light in that unending darkness, although she would never agree with him on that. A girl who once had no name, who he’d found cowering and helped bring out of the shadows. She will always be Delphi to him, the name a gift that neither of them will ever let go. But she is also Mai, _himawari,_ darling… So many identities, all of them still new and strange. She smiles as she approaches him, kneels on the tile to take his hands. Her skin is warm, soft, fingers gentle as she finishes bandaging his hands.

They have both gotten used to this. To him coming back a little bloodied, a little wild. He is always afraid that one day it will be too much. But she always stays, always does her best to take care of him. A soothing balm to the boiling rage, cooling him down when he runs too hot. She dabs ointment on his split lip, kisses the edge of his black eye. When she pulls at his hands, he obeys. Lets her lead him into the kitchen, press a mug of chamomile tea into his hands with two aspirin to help with the pain. The cookies she has been baking are still cooling, the smell of them making his apartment feel a little bit more like home.

To Jason Todd, Gotham is hope. A terrible, filthy, disgusting place that he wants to hate. But he sees it through new eyes. Sees it the way Delphi does, as a place that sheltered her from the past. A place that gives people like him, like her, a second chance. There is still a darkness at the heart of Gotham, one that cannot be chased away easily. But he can also see the light. The many people who want to change it, who do their best each day to make it a better place. They fail, and fall, and despair. But it is getting back up that is the most important step.

He sips at his tea and watches her move with a practiced ease in his kitchen. She stays more frequently, now. Not only because she knows that it eases his nerves to know she is safe in his home, but because there are pieces of her there, too. Books on his bookshelf, clothes in his closet. Not yet her home. Because she has pieces of herself in many places, in the room that her mothers have given her, in her own little apartment. But one day, he hopes that she will stay. That his home will become her own, too, and he can care for her in the way he wants to.

\---

_Gotham is…_

Bruce Wayne sits alone in his cave, observing his city through computer monitors. He appreciates the peace, the silence that allows him to think. There are times when he believes that isolation is when he works his best. When Alfred is up taking care of the house, when Damian is off at school or one of his art lessons. When Cassandra is off testing herself, or taking care of the girl she has taken under her own wing. Duke Thomas will be coming, soon. A new ward, a new child to mentor. But he will not be alone in it. Jason has already taken a liking to the boy, and Koshka, too.

He thinks he should be alarmed that the two most violent members of his family want to be there to teach Duke. But he also knows them well enough to know that neither of them will ever try to shape Duke in their image. They are both haunted by the things that they have done. There are nights when Koshka stays late with Bruce, when he can see in her eyes that she is stuck in the past. The brief moments that Jason has been around Bruce, he has seen that same look in his eyes. They will be good teachers for Duke, not only for their knowledge, but for their wisdom.

Bruce knows, first hand, that guilt and regret are some of the best teachers one can have. To keep from making the same mistakes, to hope that one can keep others from making them, too.

He slumps in his chair, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. He has been fighting a migraine for several hours, has been trying to push through it. But the pain does not go away so easily. Giving in, he stands from the chair, retrieves the medicine he has been given for it. Swallows the pill dry and leans against the desk while he waits for it to kick in.

To Bruce Wayne, Gotham is his mission. A project that he can never seem to give up on. The place he was born and the place he will die, either of old age or bleeding out on the streets. He is getting older, the grey blooming at his temples and the wrinkles around his eyes giving it away. His body is slowing down, too. No matter how hard he trains, how far he pushes, there are some walls that he simply cannot bust through. One day, he will have to pass on his mantle, the duty that he has held on to for so long. He hopes to keep that dark responsibility from hanging over his children’s heads for as long as he can.

Bruce Wayne stands, a white envelope catching his attention. Tickets to the ballet, given to Cassandra as a gift for the help and friendship she has given to the Kurogane girl. A production of Dracula. He has avoided the ballet, sent Dick or Damian with Cassandra. But he cannot keep avoiding it. Cannot keep avoiding _her._ He takes a deep breath, picking up the envelope. Two tickets.

He tells himself that he is only going to be a good father, to make Cassandra happy. But in his heart, Bruce Wayne knows better. He only hopes that he can hide the truth, just a little bit longer.


	2. A Day in the Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> an (un)common day in the life of Liliya Pavlovna Koshka
> 
> (set post-Red Sun)

_4:30 am_

The violent buzzing of the phone on the bed table could only mean one thing. Koshka groaned, slapping blindly until she finally got her hand on her cell phone. She’d set the vibration to a specific rhythm, so she knew which calls could and couldn’t be missed. This was a “don’t miss” call.

“What,” she grunted into the phone, rubbing at her eyes.

This early in the morning, no one expected her to be particularly soft and cuddly.

“Could you come to the manor?” Alfred Pennyworth asked, although his voice was terribly hoarse. Almost gone.

“What’s wrong?” Koshka asked, slowly sitting up and ignoring the groan that came from Dick, whose arm slid from her waist. “Did Damian set something on fire again?”

“No, I would not wake you so early for something so trivial, my dear,” Alfred rasped. “I’m afraid that I’ve come down with a rather nasty bug. I would not ask this if it weren’t important, but—”

“Give me half an hour,” she told him, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I’ll borrow the motorcycle.”

“Please be careful on the drive up,” he responded, voice breaking at the end. “And… Thank you, Liliya.”

“I’m happy to help.”

But only when Alfred asked. The man never asked anything of her unless it was important, which likely meant that he needed to be hospitalized for whatever illness it was that he had. Not that he _would_ go. Asking for help was already enough of a miracle.

“Kitten…” Dick’s voice was rasping, still half asleep. “Wha’s happ’nin’?”

“Go back to sleep, sunshine.” Slipping out of bed, Koshka pulled the blankets back up around him, smoothed out his bedhead. “Something came up at the manor. Get some rest.”

Dick grumbled, but didn’t argue with her. She knew that he would be in a bad mood about it, more of her time stolen from him. But she would make it up to him later, one way or another. Once he’d settled back down, started snoring again, she glanced at the time and sighed.

It was going to be a very long day.

_5:02 am_

“Sorry I’m a bit late.”

Koshka slipped in the doors once Alfred opened them, bag slung over her shoulder and helmet under her arm. She’d ridden as fast as she could to the manor, but it had taken time to pack up all of her clothes and cosmetics. The man looked terrible, bundled up in a thick robe and pale as death.

“I appreciate your help, either way,” he rasped, voice almost entirely gone. “Thank you.”

“Stop thanking me. Let me help you back to bed.”

Koshka began to loop an arm around Alfred, guiding his arm around her shoulder, but he began to pull back.

“My dear, I don’t want to get you sick…”

“You won’t. Not human, remember?” She flashed her sharp teeth at him in a grin.

After a moment of hesitation and looking clearly unhappy about it, he let her support him, guiding him back down the hall to his room. Once he was in bed, she pulled the blankets up to his chin, checked the pitcher of water at his bedside.

“I have schedules for both Master Damian and Master Bruce in the kitchen,” he rasped, gratefully taking the cup of water that she offered him. “If you need help, please—”

“I can handle it.” She cut him off, placing a couple of cold medication pills in his hand. “You’re the sick one. Make sure to let one of us know if you need anything.”

“I will be fine. The day off that you’re affording me will help.” He smiled, taking the pills and settling back.

“Someone has to make sure you’re taken care of, too.”

Making sure he was settled, she left the room, closing the door behind her. Once it was established upon threat of death that no one disturbed him, Alfred would get a bit of peace and quiet for once. The halls were silent as she walked through them towards the kitchen. Although she did not live in the manor, she had (unfortunately), found herself there many nights when Damian was in need of a babysitter while Bruce swung around in his bat costume and Alfred was busy down in the cave. Placing her bag and helmet down on one of the large, spotless marble countertops, she spotted the schedules that had been mentioned. Wayne’s she already knew by heart; after all, she was with him for most of it and had come up with the majority of it herself. But Damian’s… that was a different beast. She squinted down at it, biting back a snarl. Just how many activities did this kid do? There didn’t seem to be enough hours in the day, at least not for all the extra classes and tutoring he had.

Setting the schedule down, she pulled her work clothes and supplies out of her bag. She didn’t have long until she needed to wake the Wayne boys, and she needed to be ready before then.

_6:00 am_

Koshka threw open the shades in Bruce Wayne’s room, feeling a small, vicious thrill when the lump in his bed groaned. Frankly, she was just glad that he was alone. While Alfred may have handled Wayne’s… _visitors_ well, she would not have. When he didn’t immediately rise, she strode over to the bed, yanking the blankets and sheets off of him.

“Wake up,” she snapped, picking up one of the spare pillows and hitting him in the head with it. “Now.”

“Where’s Alfred?” Wayne groaned, lifting his head just enough to glare at her, hair a mess and eyes bloodshot.

“Sick. He called me in. Now get up. If I have to come back in and drag you out of that bed, I will.”

Threat firmly in place, she strode out of the room, heels of her pumps clicking on the tile as she made her way to Damian’s room. When she opened the door, she ducked quickly, dodging the throwing knife that had been aimed right at her head. It lodged in the wall behind her and she huffed, shoving the door all the way open and storming in. When she grabbed Damian by the back of the neck and lifted him out of bed, he let out an annoyed hiss.

“Where’s Pennyworth?” he grumbled, rubbing at his eyes once you let go of him and sliding out of bed.

“Sick. I’m your babysitter for the day. Get dressed. If you aren’t ready in half an hour, you will be dragged to the car with no breakfast to go to school.”

Adding in a hiss of her own for good measure, she flinched when he slammed the door closed behind her. Deep breaths. She would need _much_ more patience than usual to get through the day. Focusing on her breathing exercises, she started brewing a pot of coffee and pulled out a carton of eggs. They would need to deal with fried eggs and toast for breakfast, stoop to her cheap and simple food, or go hungry.

When they did shuffle into the kitchen, both dressed and giving her the same grunt that passed as a thank you for the coffee and food, they were smart enough to eat instead of complain.

_7:30 am_

Bruce Wayne walked into the headquarters of Wayne Enterprises on shaky legs, looking pale. Koshka fought a smirk as she followed just a step being him, pulling off the driving gloves she’d found in the glove box and whistling.

“We don’t usually take one of the sports cars to drop off Damian or to the tower,” Wayne said, glancing back at his assistant. “And we usually follow traffic laws. And don’t drive like we’re in the Batmobile.”

“Alfred is also fifty years older than me and has already had all the excitement he needs in his life,” Koshka said primly, stuffing the gloves in her purse and spinning the keys to Wayne’s Maserati on her finger. “We got here earlier than expected. I’ll get some coffee while you head up to the office. The usual?”

“Extra shot of espresso,” he mumbled, punching the button for the top floor. “Please.”

“Of course, Mr. Wayne,” she purred, smirking at the small shudder he gave just before the elevator doors closed behind him.

Feeling somewhat pleased with herself for ruffling her unflappable employer, Koshka had a bit of a skip in her step as she went to the coffee cart in the lobby.

“Good morning, Lia,” she greeted the barista, straightening the fake glasses she’d taken to wearing.

“Good morning,” Lia said with a small giggle. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a good mood before.”

“I usually don’t have a reason to be in one.”

With a small grin, she ordered coffee for herself, Wayne, and Drake, knowing that the kid would likely be arriving soon. Leaving an extra tip, she took the carrier and gave the barista a small wave as she headed back to the elevator bank. Right on time, she spotted Drake. He was wearing a turtle neck and looked exhausted, which meant he’d likely be in a fairly good mood. He _always_ was when he had to hide the hickeys that everyone knew his partner had left on him. Sidling up next to him, she bit back another smile when he startled, eyes wide when he turned to look at her.

“Good morning, Drake.” She offered his cup of coffee to him. Three less shots of espresso than he usually had, per Areum’s request that he stop drinking coffee that might kill him. “Long night?”

“Uh.” Drake cleared his throat, shifting nervously as she stepped into the elevator with him. “Yeah. And good morning. And thanks for the coffee.”

“You’re welcome. Hopefully you’ll be able to speak in order once you’re finished with it,” she snickered.

“You’re in a good mood.” He glanced over at her, eyes narrowed. “Why are you in a good mood?”

“I quickly won’t be if people keep pointing that out.” Koshka quirked an eyebrow, finding a vicious little satisfaction at the barely visible flinch Drake gave. “But no reason. I just am.”

“Hm.” He wasn’t buying it. Of course not. But he sipped at his coffee, wisely deciding not to question it. “Well… thanks again.”

“You’re welcome again.” Koshka watched him as he stepped out of the elevator on his floor, his movements still sluggish. “And Drake?”

“Huh?” He blinked, glancing back at her.

She pointed to her neck, just below her jaw.

“Pull up your turtleneck.”

The doors slid shut just as he yanked the high neck all they way up to his chin, a blush radiating across his face. Snickering again, Koshka readjusted her grip on the two remaining coffee cups. Although she’d certainly gotten off to a rough start, perhaps the day wouldn’t be as terrible as she thought.

11:30 am

The day turned out to be _exactly_ as terrible as she thought. It wasn’t even lunch yet, and Koshka had already had to grit her teeth and politely apologize to several of the board when Bruce fell asleep with his eyes open during a meeting. Then there were the issues with contracts in legal, manufacturing issues with medical equipment they were providing for the Kurokawa Wolf Clinics, and the bi-monthly audit meeting with accounting had to be re-scheduled after several of them called in sick. Just finding several hours where Wayne wasn’t already doing something else had been an absolute nightmare.

Returning to her desk with another cup of coffee, she bit back a growl when her cell phone rang. _Gotham Academy._ Taking a deep breath, she sat heavily in her chair and answered the call, keeping her voice as pleasant as she could.

“Liliya Koshka,” she said with false cheer.

“Ms. Koshka.” A posh voice on the other end, tone clipped. “We’re calling in regards to the Wayne boy.”

Of course. Grip tightening around her mug, she sat back further in her chair, glancing inside Bruce’s office. He was on a conference call, clearly fighting boredom but trying not to show it. With Wayne on the phone and Alfred out sick, she would be the next contact. Better her than Dick, who would _not_ have been pleased to have to make the trip back to Gotham from Bludhaven for a school call.

“What did he do?” she asked, gently rapping a knuckle against the office window.

Wayne glanced up, frowning. She quickly wrote down ‘school call’ on a post it note, slapping it against the window. His frown only deepened, fingers coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. At least her misery was shared.

“He got in a fight,” the teacher on the other line said, with a deep-set exhaustion. “ _Again.”_

“Does he ever _not_ get in fights?” she muttered, quickly adding on ‘fight. AGAIN.’ to the post it note. “Mr. Wayne is currently busy, but I can schedule a parent-teacher meeting for—”

“We’re sending him home for the day.” He cut her off, Koshka twitching and almost snapping her pen in half. “Please come retrieve him before the end of the lunch period. He’s been suspended for the rest of the week.”

“Of course. I’ll be there as quickly as I can.” Ending the call, she slammed the phone down on her desk and let out a loud groan, running her hands over her face.

Picking up Damian from school and dropping him off with a sick butler had not been in her plans. Although, given the boy’s penchant for mischief, she suspected that she’d have to bring him back to the office with her. Slipping into Wayne’s office, she waited until he excused himself for a moment and muted the call before she spoke.

“Damian’s been suspended again. I need to go pick him up from the academy,” she said.

Wayne sighed, slumping down in his chair and running a hand over his face. After taking a deep breath, he leaned forward.

“Go. He can spend the rest of the day here. Let Alfred get some rest.” He shook his head. “I’ll discipline him later.”

“Yes, sir.”

Storming out of his office and closing the door with more force than was warranted, Koshka retrieved her purse and ignored the nervous glances of the interns as she made her way back down to the parking garage. Good mood all but ruined, she hoped that the day wouldn’t get any worse.

_12:30 pm_

Koshka pulled the Maserati into Wayne’s parking spot, fingers drumming against the wheel as she watched Damian out of the corner of her eye. He’d been quiet ever since she picked him up from the academy, arms folded tightly over his chest as he glared out the window. Even when she’d stopped to get both of them some lunch, he had refused to speak. Retrieving the two bags of fast food (and praying Damian wouldn’t complain about his cheeseburger, or she would fully lose her temper), she locked the door when he tried to get out.

“What started the fight?” she asked, turning to frown at him.

Damian let out a low growl, glaring at her and sinking further down in the leather seat. Adjusting her glasses, she watched him for a moment before taking the milkshake she’d gotten him from the cup holder and holding it out to him.

“Salted caramel milkshake in exchange,” she said.

After a moment, he grunted and took the cup from her, swirling the straw.

“Someone was spreading false rumors about father again,” he muttered, refusing to look at her. “I demanded they stop, and when they refused, I resorted to fists.”

“Hm.” Koshka regarded him, watched him sulkily sip at his milkshake. “It wasn’t just about your father, was it?”

“…No,” he said after a moment. Damian finally glanced at Koshka, voice soft. “It was about you, too.”

Koshka had figured. Damian’s skin was pretty thick when it came to most things, even the gross gossip from society columns. But when it came to family, and especially things blatantly untrue about the family, his temper still ran hot. She was just glad it wasn’t because of the kids saying something racist to him again. The last time that had happened, it had been Dick who got the call, and he’d exploded, threatening to sue and making a scene. It had taken a bit of damage control, but at least a few of the administrators had begun to take the bullying he’d been going through seriously.

“I appreciate you standing up for me, Damian.” She reached out, ruffling his hair and ignoring the little hiss he let out. “But it isn’t needed. I’ll talk to your father and explain the situation.”

“You don’t need to baby me, Koshka,” he muttered, scrambling out of the car once you unlocked it and taking the bag you offered him. “… but thank you for the food.”

“You’re welcome.” She paused for a moment, glancing over at him. “… How many hits did you get in?”

“Enough,” he told her with a vicious grin.

“… Maybe don’t share that with your father.” Reaching out, she ruffled his hair. “But good job kid. Just try to behave for the rest of the day, and things should be fine.”

_4 pm_

Fuming just as much as Wayne was, Koshka stalked behind him as they left the conference room. Nothing seemed to be going right. And with the people they’d been meeting with being large stakeholders, she’d had to hold her tongue as they spouted ignorant misinformation. Wayne had handled it well, playing up the charming idiot act, but she’d seen the way his smile wavered and the heat in his eyes. With his long stride, she had to practically jog to keep up with him as he stormed down the hall. People ducked out of the way, knowing his anger when they saw it.

“Mr. Wayne—”

“Not now,” he bit out, interrupting her before she could even start.

“But we should—”

“I said,” he growled, turning to shoot a glare at her, “ _not now.”_

Koshka wanted to push back, to tell him where to shove his attitude. And normally, she would have done so. But she was exhausted, and angry, and just wanted the day to be over already. So she obediently shut her mouth, even though it made her pride sting. Clutching her tablet and the files she’d brought to the meeting to her chest, she lowered her gaze as they made their way back to Wayne’s office. Damian, who had been spinning in the chair at her desk, stopped when he spotted them.

“Father,” he said, “I—”

“Not now,” Wayne snapped. With a little less heat than he’d used with Koshka, but enough that she could see Damian deflate. “Koshka.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, keeping her tone even.

“Get Jason or Cassandra here to take Damian to his afternoon lessons,” he ordered, flinging open the door to his office. She followed him in, grip on the tablet and files white knuckled. “We have a lot of work to do. No more mistakes.”

“With all due respect, sir, these are not our mistakes.” Koshka stood near the door, watching as he threw himself down into his chair. “I can attempt to make the information that they misinterpreted clearer, but—”

“Just fix it.” Wayne turned away from her, staring out the wall of windows behind him. “You’re dismissed.”

Koshka lingered, cold anger slowly beginning to bubble, overflow. But she had work to do. She could take him down a couple of notches later. Without a word, she turned and walked out the door, closing it quietly behind her. Damian stared at her from her desk, expression guarded. Picking up his schedule from where she’d placed it near the computer, she looked it over.

“I’m afraid you’ll be late for your life drawing class,” she said, tone clipped. “But that is fine. I have a favor to call in with Jason. I would prefer to take you there myself, but—”

“But Father is demanding you focus on your primary job. I understand.” Damian sank back down into her chair as she sent off a text to Jason. “I can tolerate Todd.”

Koshka grunted, locking her phone when she got a text back confirming Jason would get there soon. Setting down the files, she sat on the edge of her desk and took off her glasses, rubbing at her eyes. Although she couldn’t see him, she knew the boy was watching her.

“You had plans with Grayson tonight, didn’t you?” he asked.

She sighed, putting her glasses back on and glancing over at him.

“He told you?” she asked.

“He doesn’t shut up when he comes on patrol with me,” Damian said, although not unkindly. “He’s been talking about it for weeks.”

“It’s just a dinner,” she grumbled, although it wasn’t completely true. “We can reschedule.”

There was a small twitch in Damian’s expression. He knew something that she didn’t. But she also knew that he wouldn’t break. Of all the people in the Wayne mess of a family, it was only Damian that she couldn’t squeeze for information. Too stubborn and nearly impossible to scare. She had to respect it, as infuriating as it could be. Shrugging, he got out of her chair so that she could sit back down in it, unlock her computer to pull up the shareholder files. There was nothing to fix, the numbers and information clear as day to her. But, of course, rich people with no reading comprehension loved to find things to be angry about. She wasn’t the only one who wanted to bring Wayne down a few pegs. The difference was that she was at least _honest_ when she scolded him. It was frustrating, her back practically aching from how frequently she had to bend over backwards to make things easier for people who should have known better.

Damian shot one last look at her once Jason arrived, expression twitching again. But she ignored it. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be too serious. Giving both Damian and Jason a distracted wave as they left, she shot off another quick text to Dick to let him know she wouldn’t be able to make it to their planned dinner date. Silencing it to keep from being distracted, she got to work, grinding her teeth as she worked to bring the reports down to a primary school level for grown adults with business degrees.

_7:47 pm_

“The data on our pharmaceutical profits and the percentages going to non-profit branches isn’t represented correctly.” Wayne tossed the files back across the desk at Koshka. “Fix it.”

Taking a deep breath, she slowly reached out, paper crumpling in her grip as her hands curled into fists. For hours she had been making petty changes, Wayne seeking perfection in places where it simply didn’t exist. The reports had been perfect before, and the changes that he’d demanded from her in the first place made it impossible for them to be the perfect that he now wanted. The last thread of her self-control snapped and she slammed her hands down on his desk, glasses sliding down the bridge of her nose as she stood and glared at him.

“The reports are fine as they were, and they’re as fine as they’re going to be in order for your smooth-brained, idiotic, petulant share holders to understand them, since they bought their degrees and haven’t actually bothered to learn the businesses that they invest in to make their family fortunes even more obscenely large,” she bit out, leaning forward. “I don’t know why you’re taking out your foul mood on me, _sir,_ but I refuse to do more petty busy work. If you have anything that is actually important for me to work on, then please, give it to me so that I can waste away more hours of my day.”

Wayne stared at her for a moment, eyes widening just a fraction before they narrowed. Placing his hands down on his desk, he stood as well, towering over her. Any other person might have cowered, might have bent under his sheer force of will. But not her. _Never_ her.

“You are out of line,” he growled, leaning closer.

“No.” She bared her teeth, sharp fangs glinting in the fluorescent light of his office. “You are. I am your _assistant,_ Mr. Wayne. Not your servant. I do the duties outside of my job description to make things easier for the people under you in this company, and for your family. The only reason I agreed to take on as many of Alfred’s duties as I could afford to today was because I was the only person he could trust to ask for help. Do you have any idea how many personal sacrifices he’s made? How many personal sacrifices _I’ve_ made? Or are you too busy living inside your own head that you can’t see the way you effect the people around you?”

“I have a business to run,” he snapped back, unflinching even when she let out a soft hiss. “I have a son to raise. A family to look after. A city to protect from itself! Do you think that I haven’t sacrificed?”

“That doesn’t mean you can demand sacrifice from the people around you.” Koshka’s sharp nails curved into the desk, leaving narrow, shallow scores in the surface. “I know that you’ve lost a lot, sir. I know your life isn’t an easy one. But I don’t think it’s out of line to ask for you to set aside your pride and temper so that I can live a life outside of babysitting you and the people you answer to.”

“Koshka—”

“No. Shut up.” She stood up straight, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “I woke up at 4:30 this morning and rode Dick’s motorcycle as fast as I could to the manor. I made sure that Alfred was in bed, with water and medicine. I woke up you _and_ your son, made you breakfast, drove you to school and work, got your coffee for you, took a call from your son’s school, picked him up after he was suspended for getting in a fight because of rumors that you and I are _having an affair,_ I got him lunch, I sat and I got yelled at with you because the rich people in this city can’t be bothered to learn anything, and then I got stuck here for almost four hours drafting up reports that had already been approved, wasting my time.”

Wayne started to open his mouth, but she snarled, grabbing him by the tie and yanking him forward.

“I said shut up. You’re going to listen to me.” Once his lips thinned, pressed together in a look of clear displeasure, she shoved him back into his chair. “Do you know how many times I’ve set aside my life for you? How many times I’ve been out with Dick or Cass or Damian or Barbara, and you’ve called me? And every time, I’ve come. Every. Single. Time. Without fail. And not once have you thanked me. Just because you pay me well doesn’t mean I don’t deserve some gratitude when I put my life on hold for you. I leave dates for you. I lose sleep for you. I’ve given up more weekends than I can count for you. I have to pretend that it doesn’t _piss me off_ or bother my partner that people think we’re sleeping with each other because I spend so much fucking time with you. Dick and I had a dinner date planned for _weeks_ that we had to reschedule because you felt like being a goddamn brat.”

He blinked, a sudden clarity in his expression. In the span of a breath, he went from visibly angry to trying to hide an expression of guilt and embarrassment. So, it wasn’t just Damian who was hiding something.

“What day is it?” he asked.

“There’s a calendar on your desk. _Sir.”_

Letting out a long, heavy sigh, Wayne ran a hand down his face.

“I forgot,” he mumbled. “Koshka, I…”

“What,” she snapped. “Say it.”

“I’m sorry. I forgot that it was your anniversary.”

Koshka tried to find her usual vicious satisfaction in the way the man deflated, the clear guilt on his face. But she just felt… empty. Her anger had already flickered out, replaced by a bone deep disappointment. Not an uncommon feeling for her to have around him. But this one… this one left Koshka feeling particularly cold. Shaking her head, she stepped back from the desk.

“I’ll email you that last draft along with the original reports. Whichever one you want to send as the final version, that’s up to you. But I’m going home. You should too. Take care of Alfred.”

Lingering by the door for a moment longer, she sighed. Wayne wasn’t looking at her, had turned away.

“Good night, Mr. Wayne,” she mumbled.

She didn’t wait for a response, stepping out and closing the door behind her. Leaving the keys to his car on her desk, she gathered her things and picked up her phone. As she walked to the elevator, she scrolled through her messages, her missed calls. Mood dropping even further, she took a deep breath, stepping into the elevator and calling Dick.

All she could hope for was that he wouldn’t be furious at her.

_8:09 pm_

Dragging herself through the front door of the penthouse, Koshka hung her purse on its hook by the door and kicked off her shoes. Her feet were killing her, eyes dry from wearing her color contacts for so long. Taking off her fake glasses as well and tossing them into her purse, she slumped as she walked further into the apartment. It was dark, quiet. No sign of Dick. He hadn’t answered her calls, and she feared the worst. That he’d decided to stay in Bludhaven, or with one of his siblings. That this was the final disappointment, the last time she would let him down. The day had started out terrible, and had somehow found a way to get even worse.

“God, I need a drink,” she muttered to herself, steps heavy as she moved towards the living room.

The lights flicked on and she screamed, tentacles bursting from the small of her back as she fell into a crouch. Dick stood in the middle of the living room, a bottle of champagne in one hand and his expression of joy melting into concern at the sharp edge of one of her extra limbs hovering a breath away from his head.

“Surprise…?” he said, letting out a nervous laugh as she retracted her appendages.

“You _have_ to stop with the surprises.” Koshka rose from her crouch, brushing off the front of her blouse. “What is this surprise for?”

“Since we couldn’t go out, I wanted to bring the dinner to you. I know it’s not as nice or fancy, and you’ve had a long day, but…” He shrugged, carefully opening the bottle of champagne as she approached. “Doesn’t mean I can’t make it better, at least at the end, right?”

Stopping next to the couch, Koshka looked over the array of take-out Dick had gotten… all from the Thai place they’d gone to on their first date. Not the fancy 5-star restaurant they’d made reservations at. But honestly? She was happier with the take-out. A little bit of the tension bleeding from her, she moved to sit, letting Dick press a mug full of champagne into her hand.

“You didn’t have to do this, Dick,” she mumbled, watching him put together a plate for her. He’d even gotten her flowers, lit a few candles to place around the table. “I feel bad. I know you were looking forward to dinner tonight, and I let you down—”

“No, Bruce let me down. And you stood up to him and came home to me.” Dick grinned, handing her a plate piled with food and sitting down next to her. “Not gonna let him ruin the whole day for you. That’d make me a pretty shitty partner.”

“Considering how much you put up with? I’m not sure it’s possible for you to be a shitty partner, sunshine.” Koshka let out a small, bitter chuckle. She poked at the food on her plate, taking a long sip of champagne first. “I’m sorry. About all of this.”

“Nothing to be sorry about. Like I said, a lot of this was out of your control. Plus, you were helping out Alfred as much as you could. Someone’s gotta thank you for that.” Dick pointed out, gesturing with his chopsticks. “And if that falls on me once again, so be it.”

“One day, Wayne will pay for it.” Koshka paused, taking a sip. “… That sounded a little more ominous than I intended.”

“No, it’s sexy when you’re threatening,” he chuckled, winking when she glanced over at him.

“Where’s Penny?” she asked, glancing around for the dog and taking a bite of chicken.

“Sleepover with Schnitzel.” Dick cleared his throat, pushing his food around his plate. “I… wanted us to be alone.”

Immediately, Koshka was suspicious. First Damian and Bruce acting shifty, now this. They’d had anniversaries before. Eyes narrowing, she observed his expression, the way he began to shift nervously. She set down her plate, turning to face him on the couch. Taking a long sip of champagne, Koshka watched him squirm.

“What are you up to?” she asked, eyes narrowing further when he set his own food aside. “Don’t tell me you put more workout equipment in the guest room. And I already told you, a swing is out of the—”

“It’s not any of that,” Dick interrupted, waving a hand. “I told you that I’d consult you before buying any kind of equipment, and I meant it. It’s… Well, uh…”

“Just spit it out,” Koshka said, not unkindly. “Make it easier on yourself.”

“Always straight to the point, huh?” he chuckled nervously.

“Just trying to spare you embarrassment while you dance and backflip around it,” she grinned.

“How very kind of you.” Dick rolled his eyes, but laughed a bit more genuinely. Taking a deep breath, he reached out and took her hands. Skimmed them up her arms, pushing up the sleeves of her blouse and revealing the scales hidden beneath. His thumbs brushed over them, a tiny shiver going down her spine. “So… you know that I was planning this dinner for a while.”

“I’m aware,” Koshka said.

“And that I’ve been acting a little weird lately.”

“Yes,” she agreed, biting back a grin. “I noticed.”

“I just… I wanted to do something special tonight. And it didn’t work out. But I also didn’t want to chicken out. Because I’ve been chickening out for a while. And I didn’t want to chicken out again.” Dick stopped himself before he started rambling, fingers curling into a loose grip just above her elbows. “I, uh…”

Koshka quirked an eyebrow. So, this was why Damian and Bruce had both been acting weird. She also couldn’t say she was surprised that this was what Dick had been leading up to. He’d been acting strangely for a couple of weeks, weirdly secretive instead of being his usual open self. She smothered a grin, tipping her head to the side and feigning confusion as he pulled out a little jewelry box from his pocket.

“Liliya Pavlovna Koshka, I just… I want to ask if…”

“Yes,” she said.

“I… I didn’t even ask—”

“You were going to ask me to marry you, right?” Koshka grinned, scooting closer so that she could open the little box and admire the ring inside of it. Not set with diamonds, she could tell that. But the white sapphires still sparkled in the light, the stones set in white gold, with one traditional, deep blue sapphire set in the center. “It’s pretty.”

“Was I that obvious?” Dick asked, letting out a relieved little laugh and sliding the ring onto her finger.

“A little. But you’re always obvious, at least to me. I’ve been wondering for a while when you were going to ask.” Koshka’s grin softened as he held her hand up, both of them admiring the way the ring looked on her. “… Thank you. For all of this.”

“Thank you for saying yes.” Dick laughed again, pulling her close, burying his face in her hair.

“Why would I ever say no? We’ve been together for three years now.” Koshka chuckled as well, curling up against him, letting the warmth of her joy banish the cold disappointment she’d felt earlier. “You know that you didn’t have to do anything special or fancy to propose, right? If you’d just woken up in the middle of the night, turned over, and said ‘hey, let’s get married’, I still would’ve agreed.”

“I know.” He sighed, let himself fall back onto the couch, Koshka bracing herself above him. “But I wanted to make it special. I had this whole elaborate plan that I came up with, where this special song would play and the lights would dim, and they’d bring out this expensive bottle of champagne, with the ring inside. I was gonna do a backflip when you said yes. Just… I wanted to make it memorable. You’re gonna have a long life, kitten. And I wanted to give you a memory to hold onto for the rest of it.”

“Richard Grayson.” Koshka sat up, straddling him and cradling his face. “Every moment that I spend with you is one that I will cherish for however long I live. I love you. And I’ll be proud to be your wife.”

“My wife.” Dick’s grin lit up the room, dimples on full display and making that warmth in her spread further. “Liliya Pavlovna Grayson. It sounds good.”

“It does,” she agreed, giggling when he sat up, strong arms wrapped around her. “I love you, sunshine.”

“I love you, too, kitten.” He grinned, pressing his forehead to hers. “Did I manage to make your bad day just a little bit better?”

“Mm, almost.” Koshka snickered. “Food, then celebratory shower sex. Then I might be close to a good mood.”

Dick laughed, loud and open. When she pressed forward to kiss him, careful not to bite his lip, she already knew that Dick Grayson had worked his magic again and managed to make her terrible, strange day into one of the best of her life. 


	3. Bloom: Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> once upon a time, in a kingdom of darkness and hope, two fates intertwined...
> 
> (a cinderella-esque AU starring jason and delphi)

Once upon a time, in a kingdom of darkness and hope, a little girl was born. A miracle, but one that her mother could not take care of. Under the dark of night, the child was left on the doorstep of a local merchant, one who had not been able to conceive with his wife but who had desperately wanted a child. They did not question the appearance of this child on their doorstep, took her in as a blessing, an answer to their prayers. The wife, a sweet, soft woman with a smile as bright as the sun, named the child Delphi, for the babe always seemed to know when one of them was awake, smiled just before blessings and cried before hardships.

For several years, Delphi grew up loved, her adoptive parents gentle people who taught her the importance of patience and kindness. She was a quiet child, but frighteningly intelligent, bright hazel eyes always watching and absorbing her surroundings. Dressed in fine clothing, taken out to the market, allowed to live openly in the world. But her father, a merchant, was gone for long stretches of time. When his wife fell sick, he was not there for her final moments. Delphi held her mother’s hand and learned about pain and loss at the tender age of only ten. The merchant, mourning his wife, was gone for longer stretches of time. By the time she was eleven, the girl knew loneliness intimately, so quiet that when her father finally returned from his long trips, he feared that she’d gone completely mute.

Knowing that his sweet daughter needed a mother, needed companionship, he went to a matchmaker. While he would never love another woman the way he had loved Delphi’s mother, he needed a wife, needed someone to tend house and raise his child. When she was twelve, she met her stepmother for the first time. A severe woman, beautiful but strict, her blue eyes cold when she looked over the child.

“What is wrong with her hair?” the woman asked, her own son silent at her side.

“It is a sign of her miraculous nature,” her father said, meeting his new wife’s coldness with warmth, smiling down at his daughter, her silver hair braided over her shoulder. “As silver and bright as the full moon she was brought to us under.”

“It’s unseemly.” The new wife, who insisted that the girl call her Matron, sneered.

That meeting was the first ill omen that the girl experienced. She woke each morning under a shared roof with her stepmother and stepbrother, a quiet boy named Jean-Paul, with a terrible feeling in her heart. Gone were the fine dresses that her mother used to buy her. She dressed in rough-spun clothing, treated not like a child by her stepmother, but like a servant to the house. Her father’s absence was all the more painful, the few times he did visit strained and awkward as she lied and pretended that she was happy with her stepmother and stepbrother’s presence.

She grew from a girl to a young woman, blooming quietly even as her cruel stepmother isolated her further and further. Jean-Paul would not speak to her, seemed more and more uncomfortable around her as time passed. Her stepbrother had the finest tutors brought in to teach him, was trained in swordsmanship and combat by masters. Delphi was not brought any tutors, was instead expected to learn how to take care of home and hearth. But after she had finished mending clothes, cooking meals, taking care of her father’s home, she would study Jean-Paul’s books when he and her stepmother were asleep. Although she had to hide it, she quickly learned different languages, advanced arithmetic, strategy and the history of her kingdom and those surrounding it.

At eighteen, freshly an adult, she woke up to a terrible gut feeling, her heart aching. Even before the messengers came with news of the accident, of her father’s death, she knew he was gone. Things, somehow, became even worse. Without her father around, there was no need for her stepmother to pretend to care for her any longer. She was moved out of her room, forced to live in the dusty, cramped little attic of the estate. Her stepmother sold her fine clothing, her jewelry, anything that she didn’t hide away in order to continue her expensive style of living. Within a month of her father’s death, Delphi was no longer a child of the home, heir to the estate. Instead, she was fully and officially made a servant, working long hours catering to her stepmother’s every whim and gritting her teeth. Getting angry would have been easy. But even when the Matron hurled hurtful words at her, pushed her to work harder and harder, refused to even use the name she was given, she remembered what her mother had told her: Be kind, always.

At nineteen, after the Matron threw one of her mother’s fine china tea cups, hit her in the face with it and left deep gashes around her left eye, she ran away. Deep into the forest so close to the estate, branches snagging in her hair, her clothes, leaving scratches and bruises. She only stopped when she reached a river running in the heart of the wilds, her clothes dirty and the soles of her feet bloodied and torn. After so much pain, so much heartbreak, her entire life falling apart around her, she allowed herself to weep. To let all of it leak out of her, tears soaking the earth she knelt on. When they dried up, when she felt empty and drained, she stared at her reflection in the river. Once, she had thought herself pretty, when her mother would braid her hair and sing to her, tell her all about the miracle that had brought her to them. Now, with her left eye swollen, blood streaked down her face, and her fine silver hair tangled and wild, she could only see what the Matron had told her she was. Unseemly. An eye sore. Ugly, unfit to be a lady of society.

For a single moment, she wondered if it would best for her to simply cast herself in the river. To give the Matron what she wanted, to accept that she was unwanted in the world, had no place in it. But just as she knelt at the edge of the rushing water, closed her eyes and prepared to jump, there was a soft chime. When she turned, the girl found a fox approaching her. Its white coat seemed to shine in the moonlight, blue eyes holding an intelligence that she had never seen in an animal before. There was no caution in the fox, who approached her openly, sat next to her and let its fluffy tail curl over its front paws.

“Hello,” she whispered. She began to reach for the fox, but stopped, afraid of the dirt and blood on her skin ruining that beautiful fur. “You’re the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen.”

The fox seemed pleased, the bells tied around its neck with a fine green ribbon chiming as it leaned forward and pressed its head into her palm. Her breath caught, the contact radiating warmth and comfort through her. Not a fox, not with the magic that seemed to radiate from it. But something more, a spirit of the wilds. Perhaps the miracle that had brought her into the world had drawn this beautiful fox to her. The despair in her heart began to fade as she stroked the fox’s fur, which was not dirtied by her hands. She washed herself in the river, found a large wisteria tree to take shelter under as a storm rolled in. The girl did not wish to return to what had once been her home for that night. And so she slept in the forest, the fox curling up near her, keeping her company and providing her warmth during the cold night.

When she woke, the fox was gone. But there was food laid out near her, a fish that had been retrieved from the river and fruits and mushrooms that were safe for her to eat. She accepted the gifts, filled her empty stomach with the bounties of the forest. Before she left, she found one last gift that had been left for her. A beautiful beaded bracelet, with one particular bead that shone, a tiny bit of cold fire encapsulated inside of it.

“Thank you,” she whispered, although she was not sure if they fox could hear it.

Upon her return, neither her stepmother nor stepbrother commented upon her disappearance. They demanded breakfast, demanded that she wait upon them. But she did not despair. With the fox’s bracelet on her wrist, she felt a warmth inside of her that helped her get through the day. And many other days, as well. The girl would go to the forest when her family was in the city. The sound of chimes drew her time and again to that wisteria tree in the heart of the wilderness. The fox would always greet her, guide her through new paths. The fox spirit would run through the trees with her, instilled a streak of wildness within the girl that allowed her rare, wonderful moments of freedom.

Not even the sharp words of her stepmother or the wandering eyes of her stepbrother could take that from her. Delphi was content to live her life as their servant, to find her brief moments of happiness with the fox spirit in the woods.

But on the dawn of her twentieth birthday, fate drew her down a much different path.

\---

Once upon a time, in a kingdom of darkness and hope, a little boy was born. His parents were too poor to feed another mouth, to raise a child that they were not sure they could find love in their hearts for. Knowing the king had already taken in one son before, they left the child on the steps of the castle, hoping that he would find a better life there. The king’s advisor found the boy, sleeping peacefully in his woven basket, and brought him before the king. With a sweet face, warm brown eyes, and olive skin, the boy was beautiful. The king’s son, Prince Richard, immediately attached himself to the baby and mighty King Bruce found that he could not say no to his first son. And so the boy was named Jason, made a prince of his kingdom.

He grew up surrounded with love, both from his father and his older brother. By the tender age of only seven, the boy had already learned several languages, the importance of diplomacy, the history of his kingdom and those surrounding it. But where he really excelled was in combat, a wildness in him that drew him to martial arts, archery, hunting, horseback riding, swordsmanship. He was a happy child, but there was nothing his father or his brother could do to tame that wildness. It led him to run away from the castle grounds many times, disguising himself and walking among the people that his father ruled. He saw not only the riches of the castle, but the poverty on the streets. At the age of ten, he relentlessly brought up the poverty he saw to his father until the king finally set up funds to help create homes for the impoverished, restructured the royal guard so that they protected the regular citizens of the country, not only the rich and powerful.

But the boy’s passion for bettering the lives of commoners made him enemies among the court of his father. Greed ran deep within the kingdom, dark branches that not even the king could prune away. There was war at their borders, discord on the streets, too many things for one man, no matter how powerful, to deal with by himself. While the war escalated, the situation in the city became worse. By the time the boy was a young man, many of the coffers that had been devoted to bettering the lives of people like the parents who had given him up had been given to the war effort instead.

The deep well of empathy that the young prince had allowed him to feel the pain of the people who looked up to them, relied upon them to keep them safe, filled him with anger. His temper ran hot, a passion ignited inside of him. He lashed out against the rules that bound him, that tried to keep him tied down to one path. At the age of sixteen, he committed his greatest act of rebellion: he disobeyed his father’s orders and snuck away with a legion of troops. He went to the frontlines of the war, determined to fix the problems that had drawn the king’s attention away from his city for so long. With all of his training, he blended in with the soldiers, fought with all of the passion he could find within himself. But the enemies were boys, just like him. When he could not deliver a final blow during a battle, hesitated for one long moment to kill the boy in front of him, he paid the price.

A blade in the gut, a rifle butt to the head. Left bleeding on the ground while his fellow soldiers retreated. His life slowly began to fade and he tried desperately to hold onto it. Although he had never been spiritual, while he had refused to go to worship like his father did, he sent out a prayer to any spirit or god listening that he would be spared. That he would do better, if they would save him, would find some way to use this second chance at life to do what his father and his brother could not. Time slowed and the shadows stretched around him. A raven lit upon him, eyes glowing the same red as the blood that pooled beneath him and the fires that raged around him.

“If I give you a second chance at life,” the raven said, voice smooth and dark, sending a chill down his spine, “you must be my emissary. When I ask boons of you, you will do them without question. There is a precious thing in your kingdom that must be protected. You will do so for me, Prince.”

“Who are you?” he asked weakly. “Which god?”

“I have no name and no worshippers. You will not find me in your temples, in your histories. Do as I ask of you, and you will have my name once you have earned it.” The raven cocked its head, ruffling its dark wings. “Do we have a deal, child?”

“Deal,” he whispered, his limbs going cold. “Please…”

The raven did not waste any time, hopping onto his chest and pressing its cold beak against his head. A deep, icy energy rushed through the young prince, healing his wounds. It settled cold in his heart, a quiet presence. A magic that would sit within him until it was, finally, his time to pass on. He sighed and closed his eyes, knowing that he would wake once more. Battlefield medics found him several days later, sleeping deeply, a streak of white in his dark hair marking the miracle that had saved him from death.

When he returned to his kingdom, his father was furious. Prince Jason had been missing, considered dead, and his return caused a ripple of chaos. A new prince had been adopted, and another born in his absence. New brothers to adjust to, his anger still running hot despite the new ice that sat in his heart. The raven, the god who had given him his second life, perched on his shoulder, did not leave his side. She spoke to him rarely, but when she did, she saw things that he did not. Whispered secrets into his ear that allowed him to make the changes he wished for the city. Although his older brother and his father were still distracted by the war, the efforts to bring peace between nations and draft up treaties and accords, he took control of ensuring chaos did not reign in their kingdom. He focused on rooting out corruption, punishing those who had made the weak suffer.

Close to a decade passed, and although many changes had been made, they still did not seem to be enough. Prince Jason was now a man, battle hardened and shrewd, the great raven that perched on his shoulder still whispering secrets to him. His family did not question him, seemed to know that it was best not to question what he did. Richard married an ambassador from an eastern land, Timothy became betrothed to a martial arts master, and the youngest prince Damian trained to take the throne once Bruce passed on. Prince Jason spent his time in combat training, still sneaking out onto the streets at night and disguising himself, knew the royal city better than any of his kin. He had become content to accept his role in the world, become comfortable with the constant dark presence on his shoulder. The god had yet to ask anything of him, to make a move towards the precious thing she had mentioned so many years ago.

But only a month before his twenty-sixth birthday, the god finally put her plans into motion.

\---

Delphi rose early on her twentieth birthday, rolled out of the cramped cot that she called her bed and watched the sun begin to rise. It would be a good day. She knew it, had that same bone-deep feeling that she’d become comfortable with. Her omens, guiding her through each day. She bathed and dressed quickly, slipped the fox’s bracelet on as she made her way down from the attic. Her stepmother and stepbrother would not wake for several hours, always slept late on the weekends. Which meant that she would have more time out in the forest, new paths to explore with her fox guardian. As she prepared breakfasts for her family, plated them and placed them before their doors, she hummed a quiet song. One she remembered her mother singing to her, full of hope, gentle and soft. There was a bounce in her step as she finished the rest of her morning chores, ensuring that her stepmother could not get too mad with her when she returned.

With her work done until night fell, she slipped off her shoes and bound up her hair with one of her mother’s ribbons and slipped out the back of the house. She always looked forward to this freedom, to exploring new corners of the forest. But there was something else that was filling her with warmth, an assurance that something good would happen. As she ran through the woods, bare, calloused feet light as she launched herself over a bounder and a bubbling creek, she knew that a change was going to come. What kind of change, she was not sure. But she would welcome it with open arms. Out of breath and exhilarated, she came to a stop beneath the wisteria tree, looking around for the fox.

But they were nowhere to be found, no chiming coming from the distance. She frowned, walking around the tree, skirts pulled up and tied above her knees.

“Hello?” she called out, wading into the shallow waters of the river. “Fox? Are you there?”

The leaves of the wisteria tree rustled and she looked up, expression bright. But it was not her fox who appeared. A large raven burst from the flowering branches, scattering petals as it screeched. Delphi screamed, stumbling back. She had never seen the massive creature before, the glowing red eyes sending a bolt of fear through her. But she was not fast enough. It dove, ripping the ribbon out of her hair before it flew away.

“No!” Desperate, not wanting one of the last things she had to reminder her of her mother to be taken from her, she ran after the raven.

In her wild desperation, she did not notice clever blue eyes watching her from the shadows of the forest, a soft chime and a flash of white heading in the opposite direction.

\---

Prince Jason rose early, sneaking past his father’s guards, donning his hunting outfit. There was something in his gut that told him something was going to happen. A change, although he could not tell if it would be good or bad. Retrieving his horse from the stables, he paused at the gates, looking up at the sky.

The raven was not with him. Had not flown to him, perched on his shoulder as she usually did. Strange, but not something he was going to question. While he appreciated her guidance, the way she saw into shadows he could not, it would be nice to hunt for once without her. Taking a back route, he swung up onto his mare, guided her onto a back road. There were many forests along the outskirts of the city, but there was one he had yet to visit. Adjusting the bow on his back and strapping on his sword belt as the sun rose, he took a moment to appreciate the sunrise. It was not often that he got to see it from outside of the castle, most of his excursions taking place at night. But it was easier to find game in the morning, and he was excited to see what he could bag to bring back. Of all the princes, he was the best at hunting, and he found great joy in rubbing his successes in his brothers’ faces.

At the outskirts of the forests, he caught movement from the corner of his eye. Frowning, he sat up straighter, trying to peer into the bushes. There was a quiet chiming, bells that he had not heard before. He settled his hand on the sword at his belt, muscles tense. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had ambushed him, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

But it was not an assassin who leapt from the bushes. Instead, a pure white fox jumped out, rushing around the mare’s hooves, starling her. The horse reared, letting out a terrified neigh, before bolting into the woods after the fox. Jason yelped, bent forward and held tightly onto the reigns as she ran. It was a miracle he hadn’t been bucked off, crushed beneath her hooves. He tried to calm her down, but nearly fell off for his attempts. Until she ran herself tired, he would merely have to hold on. That damned fox blinked in and out of his sight, too fast for him to track. If he had his way, he would bring it back, bag it and make a fine scarf for Richard’s wife out of its shining coat.

Finally, he broke through the trees, the mare skidding to a stop at the edge of a river. Despite his tight grip, Jason was thrown off her back, landing heavily on the other side. He grunted, rolled a few feet before he came to a stop. The bow on his back had snapped, and he could already feel bruises blooming on his shoulder, ribs, and hip from his rough landing. Hissing in pain, he slowly pushed himself to his feet, brushed dirt and debris from his clothing. Stretching to make sure that he hadn’t broken anything, he finally looked up.

A blooming wisteria tree stood before him, some of the pale blossoms scattered on the ground at his feet. The fox had disappeared, his mare snorting and trotting in anxious circles at the other side of the river. Heaving a sigh, he retrieved the broken pieces of his bow.

“Guess I won’t be hunting after all,” he grumbled.

Jason whistled sharply, his horse wading through the shallow river to come back to him. This deep in the forest, he was hopelessly lost. Tucking away the remains of his bow in one of the saddlebags, he stroked his hand over the mare’s flank, trying to soothe her. Thankfully, she hadn’t been hurt. Guiding her back to the river so that she could drink, rest, he brushed back his hood and looked out over the dark canopy, light filtering in above him.

“Well,” he said. “Shit.”

It was only a matter of time until his father’s advisor, Alfred, or one of the others noticed he’d snuck out again. Without the raven god, he didn’t have much hope of finding his way out. If he picked one direction, he’d hit the end of the wilderness. But there was also no guarantee that it wouldn’t take him far outside the city limits or take up most of the day. The last thing he wanted was his father sending out a search party. Running a hand through his hair, he turned back to the wisteria tree. There was… something about it. Something that called out to the cold that the god had put in his heart. A magical thing, pulling him closer. When he rested his hand against the trunk, the bark felt warm. Alive. Magic was a rare thing, hidden carefully away, kept secret. Perhaps there was a reason so many hunters had stayed away from his particular forest. And perhaps there was a reason he’d come there to hunt.

A soft chime came from behind him, making him tense. The fox, coming back to wreak mischief. Gritting his teeth, he turned away from the tree, slowly drew his sword. Perhaps he wouldn’t get a pretty pelt to present as a gift, but he could at least scare the thing bad enough to make sure it wouldn’t mess with him or another traveler again. There was a rustling in the bushes and he fell into a low crouch, coming to the edge of the river and holding his sword before him.

“I was worried when you didn’t show this morning. I thought maybe something had happened to…” A girl emerged, the fox cradled in her arms. Her soft voice trailed off when she spotted him, the weapon he had pointed directly at her. “Oh.”

Jason and the girl stared at one another for a long moment, the world grinding to a halt. She was _beautiful_. Her clothes were rough-spun, skirts tied up around her knees, legs bare and feet dirtied and calloused. Her hazel eyes were wide, soft face frozen in fear. There were pale scars around her left eye, one of them bisecting her eyebrow. The fox, cradled in her arms, looked strangely smug. But it was her hair that caught his attention, falling in long, gentle curls past her waist, wisteria blossoms tangled in it. It was silver. Bright silver, like the full moon, like the stars that shone in the night sky. A sign of a miracle, like the own white streak in his own hair.

“I’m sorry!” She broke the silence, bundling the fox closer to her chest and taking a step back. “I didn’t mean to—”

“I didn’t mean to scare you!” Jason interrupted, sheathing his sword and holding up his hands. He didn’t want her to run away. Not yet. “I apologize. I got lost in the forest, after a fox startled my horse.”

“Oh.” The girl blinked, looking down at her fox. It only readjusted itself in her arms, movements fluid as it curled around her shoulders and nuzzled against her cheek. “She… is a bit mischievous. But aren’t all foxes?”

“Why are you here?” he asked, taking a step back towards the wisteria tree as she waded through the river.

“I always come here. It’s… like a home away from home, I suppose.” The girl stopped a short distance away from him, kneeling to set down the fox. “I’d be happy to guide you back out, but I… I need to find something first.”

“I’d be happy to help.” The offer rushed out of him, borne of his desire to spend just a little more time with this strange, beautiful girl. There was a wildness in her that called to his own, warmed his cold heart. “I’m a hunter, I can help you track down whatever it is.”

The girl stared up at him, hope lighting up her expression.

“I would appreciate the help,” she said, voice soft and cheeks flushing as he stepped closer to her. “A raven attacked me earlier. It… it stole something very important to me.”

“A raven?” Jason’s eyes narrowed.

First this weird fox, who seemed to look at him with an intelligence he’d seen in the raven god’s eyes, winding around the girl’s legs and preening. Now, a raven stealing from a wild girl. It could have been any raven, but… Considering the events of the day so far, he suspected that it was probably _his_ raven.

“It was really big,” she told him, taking another step closer. Only a couple of paces away from him, something seeming to pull them towards one another. “The biggest raven I’ve ever seen. With red eyes. It stole my mother’s ribbon.”

That didn’t sound like the raven god. She was many things, cruel and hot tempered and prone to pointing out his flaws. But she’d also seemed a proud god, above stealing things from common girls. There had to be some reason to it, for two strange animals to be pushing him towards this girl. Clearing his throat, he stood up a little bit straighter, puffing out his chest and giving her a crooked grin.

“Hunting down a raven should be a piece of cake,” he said, feeling a rush of pride at the shy smile on her face. “In exchange for your guiding me out of the forest, I’ll get your mother’s ribbon back for you.”

“Thank you.” The girl hesitated for a moment before she bowed her head, dropping into a smooth, perfect curtsey. The kind only a noble would know, taking him by surprise. “I appreciate your kindness.”

“Hey, always happy to help out a pretty girl,” he said, letting his voice drop low.

The flush on her face in response was pleasing, filled him with even more pride. Richard took far too much pleasure in thinking he was the only prince able of being charming. Tucking her hair behind her ear, she looked away from him, bending down to pick up the fox again. It made a purring, chittering noise, the bells around its neck chiming as it wound around her neck. Its bright blue eyes watched him, a chittering laugh escaping it when he glared at it.

The fox wasn’t normal. But the girl seemed to care for it, so he would let go of his grudge. For the moment.

“The last I saw it, the raven was headed back this way,” the girl told him, stroking the fox’s head. “But then it disappeared from my view, and I found my fox again. Maybe it’s close.”

As if answering her, there was a loud caw. The raven burst from the branches of the wisteria tree. She flinched away from it, pale with fright. But Jason held out his arm, let the god perch on it. Just as the girl had said, the raven held a pale satin ribbon in its beak. He could practically hear the god’s smooth laughter, although she was playing up being a regular bird.

“The ribbon!” The girl’s eyes lit up as Jason held out his other hand, the raven dropping it into his palm. “How did…?”

“I’m afraid that this raven is my companion, of sorts.” Jason gave her an apologetic smile, holding out the ribbon to her. “She usually doesn’t do things like this. I’m not sure what’s gotten into her.”

“It’s okay.” The girl stepped close to him once more, relief bleeding into her features. “I’m just glad I found it.”

Her fingers were warm as they brushed over his hand, calloused from work. A common girl, dressed in servant’s clothing with servant’s callouses, but who spoke and curtsied like someone who came from money. A strange young thing, continuing to pique his curiosity with each passing moment. His fingers curled after she’d pulled away, trying to hold in that soft warmth. She stepped away from him, tying her hair back with the ribbon, letting out a soft sigh once she was finished.

“In return, I’ll lead you out of the forest.” She glanced at the raven nervously, who’d hopped up to perch on his shoulder, preening her shining feathers. “It shouldn’t take long to get you back to the road.”

“Thank you.” Jason slumped when she turned away, slumping back towards the horse. “What the hell?” he hissed to the raven.

“It is time for your part of our bargain,” the god whispered to him, beak pressed cold against his ear as he mounted his horse. “Fate has been set into motion for you, little prince.”

“Wait.” He blinked, glancing over at the girl, who’d dipped her feet into the river, washing dirt from the soles. “Is she…?”

“You know better than anyone that her hair is a sign of a miracle,” the god whispered. “A rare thing.”

“A precious thing.” Jason stared at her as she stood back up, the fox chittering and winding around her ankles.

“Okay.” She looked back at him, motioning towards the forest. “Follow me, and I’ll lead you away, hunter.”

Right. In that moment, he was nothing more than a common hunter, foolishly stumbling onto a path he did not know. Clicking his tongue, he set his horse into a slow canter, following her as she expertly picked her way through the forest. She moved with an easy grace, clambering over tree stumps and boulders, sure-footed as she followed some invisible path he could not see. The fox ran along beside her, flitting in and out of view. Before he knew it, she’d led him back to the road he’d taken there. The mare whinnied, tossing her head as he gently dug his heels into her sides to stop her.

“Thank you,” he told her, smiling as she leaned against a tree. “I owe you.”

“You returned my ribbon to me. We’re even,” she told him, smiling back. “I’m sorry that my fox did not allow you a successful hunt.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it a loss.” Jason sat back in the saddle, trying to burn her soft face and sweet smile into his memory. “I got to steal a little time from a beautiful woman.”

She flushed again, shrinking in on herself. Shy, as if she couldn’t quite believe his words. But even a blind man would know how she shined, feel the warmth that seemed to radiate from her. She stepped back towards the forest, the fox winding around her feet once more.

“I should go,” she murmured.

“Wait.” He sat up straighter, eyes wide. “I didn’t get—”

But she was already gone, running back into the forest and out of sight.

“… Your name,” he mumbled.

The raven heaved a long sigh, ruffling her feathers.

“Wonderful job, Prince Jason,” she said, red eyes cold when he glanced at her. “I only asked one thing of you.”

“You don’t know her name?” he asked, spurring his horse forward to trot back towards the castle.

“If I did, I wouldn’t have relied on the prayers of a dying prince on a battlefield to fulfill my wish.” The god snorted, settling on his shoulder. “Some things are beyond even a god, and miracles are difficult magic. Do not worry, Prince. I have a trusted ally who will ensure that we both get what we want.”

“I don’t—”

“I’m a bird. Not blind,” the god snapped. “Just focus on returning to your home. I believe that we have another chance to lure out this pretty miracle child.”

“How?”

“With your birthday ball, of course.”

\---

Delphi sat beneath the wisteria tree, staring up at the pale flowers and feeling something bloom and unfurl within her. The hunter… Gods, he was the most handsome man she’d ever seen. So tall, built strong. Charming and kind, too. Like something pulled straight out of a day dream. But he was real. She could still feel the warmth of his hand, see his charming smile. The fox had curled up in her lap, letting out happy little purring sounds as she stroked her fur.

“Do you think I’ll see him again?” she asked, holding out her hand and catching a falling petal.

The fox butted her head against her palm. There was that same flood of comforting, assuring warmth. A yes, she thought. It was the hunter who had given her such a good feeling when she’d woken up. A wonderful birthday gift, as strange as it also was. She had forgotten to ask his name, had been so flustered in his presence that she’d run away. She hoped to see him once more. To get his name, and offer up her own. One she hadn’t heard in so long, had held close to her heart like a secret. Perhaps she could trust it with this strange man.

“I should get back to the estate.”

She didn’t want to. She wanted to stay beneath the tree a little bit longer, stay with her fox guardian for just a few more minutes. But she also knew that if she lingered any longer, she would face her stepmother’s wrath. Sighing, she carefully removed the fox from her lap. The bells around the fox’s neck chimed softly, her ears drooping as the girl stood.

“I know. I hate to leave, too.” Delphi brushed dirt from her skirt, shook out the petals that still remained in her hair. “But I’ll be back. Try not to cause too much trouble?”

The fox chittered at her, sitting down and watching with a lingering sadness as she waded through the river. Delphi gave one last wave before she ran back through the forest. It did not take long to emerge near the estate. She untied her skirts from around her legs, bound her hair tighter before she slipped back inside. The house was silent as she put her shoes back on and stepped quietly through the halls. She peeked into every room, relaxing only once she realized that the Matron and Jean-Paul had left for the day. Another small gift for her. A bit of peace, the house that she’d once run through and played in hers once more. She retrieved the breakfast dishes, washed them, lingered in the sitting room for a moment.

“… Happy birthday, Delphi,” she whispered to herself, playing a record on the gramophone.

For a few brief moments, she stayed, closing her eyes and imagining what her life could have been. Her mother, embroidering on the couch, smiling up at her. Her father, bringing home dresses and jewelry as gifts for her, embracing her tightly. When she opened her eyes once more, she let her heart hurt. Let herself grieve, in ways she hadn’t been allowed to for so many years. Twenty years old, a servant in a home that should have been hers. A woman prisoner in her estate, gaining only fleeting bits of freedom. In a few hours time, her family would be home. She would have to harden her heart, smile through the hurtful words that were hurled at her. Pretend that the lingering gaze of Jean-Paul did not make her feel unsafe or uncomfortable. There would be no birthday gifts. She hadn’t received any since her father had passed, the knowledge of that special day fading away from everyone but her.

But there would be change. She knew it. And so she carried that hope in her heart as she went back to the kitchen, prepping a feast for her family that she would not be allowed to take part in. But she did bake a few sweet rolls for herself. And when the Matron and Jean-Paul retired for the night, she could sit up in her room in the attic, dreaming of the handsome hunter and allowing herself some small pleasure.

Things would change. She knew it. And she had to hold onto that hope, no matter what.

\---

“Fitting, that such an important birthday for the child would also be a full moon, isn’t it?”

Sumiko turned, no longer in the fox form that she had donned around the girl. She smiled as the god approached her. No longer a raven, although her hair shone like the dark feathers of her disguise. Her red eyes glinted in the moonlight, red robes matching those of the prince she’d attached herself to.

“A good omen,” Sumiko agreed.

She stepped forward, letting Nanashi embrace her. With the god sticking so close to the prince’s side, their meetings were fleeting. Rare. She missed her lover, hoped that once they both ensured the child was safe and happy, they could live their own lives together once more. Sumiko pulled back, let her bright blue eyes slip closed as Nanashi ran her fingers through the fox spirit’s white hair.

“I had hoped that our plan would go smoother,” Nanashi sighed.

“We both knew it couldn’t be that easy.” Sumiko smiled, leaning into her lover’s cold touch. “I was the one that was almost trampled by a horse.”

“Yes, but you have luck on your side, my love.” Nanashi shook her head, rolling her eyes. “I have to deal with a stupid, hard-headed, hot tempered boy. At least you have a sweet girl who doesn’t talk back to you or actively do things you warn them not to do.”

“You can’t tell me that you aren’t a _little_ fond of the prince,” Sumiko giggled, a fox-like chitter that made the god smile. “After all, you haven’t pecked his eyes out yet.”

“He’s no use to me blind.” Nanashi’s voice was a bit softer than usual, her thumb brushing over Sumiko’s cheek. “I just… wish to be with you once more. To know that the child is safe and does not need our guidance any longer.”

“Our plan is in motion. Destiny has stepped in.” The fox spirit stepped closer, hummed as the god’s arms pulled her closer. “I don’t think it will be much longer until we can step away.”

“I agree, actually.” Nanashi grinned, sharp teeth flashing. “I have a plan.”

“Well, don’t keep it a secret,” Sumiko said.

“The prince’s ball is in a month. All you need to do is make sure that the girl attends. Use whatever magic you must, but we need to draw him towards the house. Let him see what she endures, so that he can save her from it.” She let out a soft hum, head turning up so that she could stare at the moon. “I will tell the prince one thing. You tell the girl another. And before we know it, we’ll be free.”

“I’m supposed to be the trickster spirit, darling,” Sumiko purred, grinning at the heat that lit in her beloved’s gaze.

“We both know that I’ve long had a devious streak. May as well indulge it, and give you a chance to play your tricks once more.” Nanashi bent closer, lips brushing against her lover’s. “I will whisper suggestions into his ear. Meet me three nights from now, and we can cement our plan.”

“How could I ever say no?”

Nanashi closed the small gap between them, kissed Sumiko as if it was the last time. When they parted, the god wore a carefully closed expression once more.

“You child will be safe, Nana,” Sumiko told her. “For good, this time.”

“I had placed her with that couple because I knew they would love her in ways I could not.” Nanashi pulled away from the embrace, folded her hands behind her back. “I… I had never considered her life would take such a dark turn.”

“But the prince will keep her safe. You know that. I know that. And once this plan of yours is set in motion, we’ll be once step closer to returning home.”

“I hope so.” Nanashi looked back at her love, her cold, hard heart cracking just a little.

Soon, they would have to leave. Sumiko would return to her forest, play her little tricks and offer a place of rest and freedom for the child, guiding her along a path to happiness. Nanashi would take flight and go back to the prince, hide in the shadows and feed him information, whisper suggestions to him to push him towards the child. Two miracles, a red string around their fingers, binding them irrevocably to one another.

Nanashi could only hope that their plans would finally succeed, and that her child, the miracle she’d brought into the world, would finally know peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> part one of three!
> 
> sumiko belongs to [the lovely mari!](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bringmetea)


	4. Bloom: Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> on the night of the royal ball, fates are set into motion...
> 
> (a cinderella-esque AU starring Delphi and Jason)

“Jason!”

A sharp blow to the back of his head pulled Prince Jason from his daydreams of the girl in the forest, a growl rumbling in his chest as he glared up at his older brother. Richard quirked an eyebrow, shoving a training sword into his brother’s arms.

“What has been up with you lately?” Prince Richard asked, walking out onto the training field and spinning the sword in his hand. “For the past few weeks, it’s like you’ve been totally checked out. You’re not supposed to be the space case in this family.”

“It’s… just that girl.” Jason sighed, following his brother and sliding on a protective helmet. He would have preferred to go without all the padding and armor, but didn’t want to have to weather another lecture about safety and responsibility from Alfred or the king. “I can’t get her out of my head.”

“I know the feeling.” Richard chuckled, sliding on his own helmet and slipping into a defensive stance. “But you’re not usually the lovesick type, Jay.”

“I’m not lovesick.” Grunting, Jason took the offensive, advancing on his brother. But each of his blows were blocked, the other prince moving with a fluid grace that opposed Jason’s burning aggression. “I’m just… focused.”

“You’ve been saying that for weeks, but I still catch you spacing out during war councils and meetings with the nobles in the city.” Richard let out a triumphant laugh, ducking under one of Jason’s blows and repositioning himself, pushing into an offense. His own movements were careful, calculated. It was through luck and a knowledge of his brother’s fighting style that Jason blocked them. “You’re cute when you daydream, little brother.”

“Shut up.” Jason ducked, swerved, switched sword hands and managed to take his brother by surprise. The tip of the practice sword was a breath away from the older prince’s chest, slicing through the air. “I’ll find her. I know it.”

“You don’t even know her name.” Richard ducked and weaved, movements agile, light on his feet. “This is a big city. A big kingdom. You really think that your mystery girl will show up at your ball?”

Snarling, Jason finally landed a blow on Richard, the tip of the practice sword catching the edge of his helmet and sending it flying. Stumbling back a few steps, the older prince grinned, lowering his sword.

“She will. I know it.” Jason lowered his own sword, tossing his helmet away. “And when she shows up, I’ll find her. There’s no way I’d ever miss her, even in a room full of people.”

“That’s awfully romantic of you. Have you been writing poetry in your room?”

Jason merely glared at his older brother, sat down heavily on the floor and laid on his back so he could stare up at the sky. The night never seemed to come soon enough, each glimpse he got of the moon as he hunted for the girl in the city reminding him of her. Of her hair, the soft melancholy in her smile. For over a month, he’d been searching for her. Trying to find her. But she was not in the city. He’d yet to expand his search to the estates that lingered on the outskirts, that bordered the forests. It made sense, that she’d live close to the place he found her in. But it took time to travel so far, and he wanted to cover all his bases. Leave no stone unturned in his search for her.

The ball that his father was throwing to celebrate his birthday was only a day away, and he had to rely on the gut feeling he had that he would see her there. With the preparations, there were too many eyes on him. He wouldn’t be able to slip out that night, not when he was fitted for his fine suit and going over the guest list. He was more high maintenance than the other princes, had to be reminded of proper manners and briefed on who was important and who was not. He’d always cared more about the common people, gone out of his way to forget the names and faces of nobles who didn’t care for the people they were supposed to represent. Although the raven had whispered that it would be the ball where he next saw her, he’d hoped to see her again before then. Hoped to feel the gentle brush of her fingers, instead of relying on his memories to conjure her in his dreams.

Perhaps he was lovesick. But there was something about the girl. A gentle pull that called him towards her, a magnetism that he couldn’t escape.

Richard sat down next to him, pushing hair back from his face and letting out a heavy sigh. Jason knew that sigh. Gritting his teeth, he braced himself for the brotherly advice that he knew he couldn’t run from. He appreciated his older brother, appreciated that he’d indulged his dreams of reconnecting with the girl. But the lectures certainly were exhausting.

“So, you know that I’m not going to try to tell you what to do,” the older prince started, leaning back on his hands.

“But you’re going to tell me what to do,” Jason grunted.

“No, I just…” Richard sighed, flopping onto his back as well. “Look. We all have different ways of doing our duties. We always have. And I get that there’s something about this girl that is special to you. Magic, or whatever. I know it probably has something to do with that creepy raven.”

The creepy raven in question let out a displeased sound from where she had roosted, over by the equipment rack. The older prince ignored her, folding his hands behind his head.

“But you can’t keep letting your search distract you from your duties, Jason. The city depends on you. Tim’s smart, but he doesn’t keep the common people in mind like you do. I’m still trying to ensure peace is kept at the border, and Bruce has his hands full running the kingdom at large and training Damian in his duties as the crown prince.” Richard glanced over at Jason, who was frowning up at the sky. “If this girl doesn’t show up at the ball, promise me that you’ll stop with this obsessive searching. If it’s meant to be, fate will find a way to push you together.”

Jason wasn’t sure if he could make that promise. Not only because he was stubborn, never let go of something once he sank his teeth in. But because he also had his promise to the god to think of. If he went against her… he didn’t doubt that she would rescind her gift, open up old wounds and let death take him. Gods were fickle beings, and the raven seemed particularly cruel. He wasn’t sure what exactly about the girl made her so important to the god. But he didn’t particularly feel like questioning it, either. He’d never get a straight answer.

“I promise,” he finally said, voice low.

A promise he only made because he knew, somehow, that she would find him. The raven had a plan, even if she didn’t necessarily share it with him. It was difficult for him to have faith, even as an emissary of a god. But he would have to put his faith in her and in the girl.

Richard looked pleased, reaching out to gently punch his brother’s shoulder. Jason let out another grunt, punching him back a bit harder and snorting with the older prince whined. But before he could get up, demand that they get back to practicing, the doors leading out to the training field opened and his heart sank. Heaving a sigh, he sat up as Alfred approached them, hands clasped behind his back. The raven let out a hoarse caw, flying over to perch on Jason’s shoulder once he’d stood.

“I apologize for interrupting,” Alfred said, eyes tracing Jason’s movements as he put away his practice weapon, stripped off the padded armor. “Prince Jason, your father has summoned you so that we may go over our plans for the ball tomorrow night. There is also the fitting for your suit so that it may be tailored to you and we may go over which songs you would like to be played.”

“Great. Love party planning duties,” Jason grumbled, but with a little less heat than he would have with his father or his siblings. Alfred was simply doing his job, didn’t seem to get any glee out of Jason’s misery like his younger brothers did. “Later, Dickhead.”

“Try not to have too much fun, Little Wing,” Dick sniggered, still laying on the ground as Jason left, following Alfred towards his father’s study.

“Have patience,” the raven whispered to him as he strode through the hall. “You will see the girl again. At least attempt to behave until then.”

Jason glared at the raven, but didn’t respond. As torturous as all of the planning and measuring and tailoring and picking of songs and food and drinks would be, at least he would have the thought of seeing the girl in the forest once more to get him through it.

\---

In the month since she had first met her handsome hunter, Delphi had run off to the forest more frequently. It was risky, the chances of being caught and punished getting higher and higher with each passing day. But she was willing to take that risk, if it meant meeting him once more. Although he did not return to the forest, she was unwilling to release the hope she had in her heart. The fox was just as tender and kind as she had been before, if not more. As the girl spent more and more time in the forest, the spirit spent more time with her. Although she did not see the man she sought, she did learn new paths through the forest, found bushes with fat, sweet berries that she picked to make desserts with and patches of earthy, colorful mushrooms to put in pastries and soups. Her stepmother did not question where these new ingredients came from, although her expression did seem to become sharper with each passing day.

One day, the Matron caught her before she could slip out the back door, sitting at the little table in the kitchen that Delphi ate her meals at. She sipped at her tea, cold eyes narrowing at the girl’s appearance. Delphi froze, tried to think of some excuse to give her stepmother to try to avoid a sharp blow or being locked away for a day in her attic with no food or water. She set down the cup sharply, the loud clink making the girl flinch, hand instinctively coming up to the pale scars around her eye.

“Where do you think you are going?” the Matron asked sharply, ankles crossed.

“Just… out to check on the chickens and the goats, stepmother,” Delphi said, keeping her voice polite and soft. “It is still early in the day, so I need to collect eggs and milk.”

“You will do so later. Jean-Paul and I are meeting a family of nobles and there is shopping that must be done in town. We will not have time, as we are hoping to set up a match between your stepbrother and one of the daughters. It will be late before we arrive home. There is a list of what must be picked up and where, along with an appropriate amount of money.” Her eyes narrowed further as she lifted her chin. “I will be counting what is left. Do not think of wasting any of it on frivolous things for yourself.”

“Of course not, Matron. I will do only what is asked of me, and hurry home so that a warm dinner is ready for you when you return.” She bowed her head, lowered her eyes.

“Don’t bother. We will be staying through dinner.” The Matron stood, cold stare weighing heavily on Delphi. “At least attempt to be useful while we are not here to supervise you.”

Delphi merely gave her stepmother a small curtsy, remaining lowered until the woman left the kitchen, heels clicking against the floor. Only once she heard her stepmother call for Jean-Paul, the front door closing behind them, did she allow herself to relax. Although she had hoped to get away to the forest, the chance to go into town was even more exciting. She had been carefully stashing away the small allowance that she was given, saving up for the next opportunity she had to come into town so that she could purchase some new fabrics and sewing supplies. Some of her dresses needed mending, and she had enough to purchase more fabric to make at least two new skirts and a new blouse. Running up to the attic, she retrieved her sturdiest boots and a hooded cloak to wear, along with her own purse.

When she left, list in hand and baskets looped over her arm for the items she had to pick up, her gut feeling that she would need her cloak was right. Storm clouds were rolling in on the horizon, and there was not a horse or carriage left for her to travel in. She had not expected anything else. It was quite a walk to the city, but she had made it before. And it was nothing compared to the miles of wilderness she explored, her legs strong and feet toughened by her secret adventures. When the first drops of rain began to fall, she carefully draped her cloak around the baskets and raised her hood. Thankfully, it was not a downpour, just the usual drizzle that fell upon the crown city of Gotham with regularity.

Delphi dutifully fulfilled her assigned chores first, picking up tea and baking goods, fresh produce, the spices that her stepmother had requested, and bundles of fine cloth that she knew were new pieces of clothing for the Matron and Jean-Paul. Only once she’d triple-checked that all of the items laid out on the list had been purchased did she allow herself to wander towards the fabric store. But just a block away, a flyer tacked to a business front caught her attention. There was a flutter in her stomach, like butterflies taking flight, the same feeling she’d had the morning that she’d met her hunter. Eyes wide, she rushed over to it, ripping the flyer away from the wall.

A ball, held at the palace, to celebrate the 26th birthday of the second prince. It had become customary for the king to open up such celebrations to all citizens of the crown city, although truly only the nobles or the wealthy came to them. The common folk did not have access to finery, were not able to learn to dance. An invisible barrier, but a barrier none the less. The Matron and Jean-Paul both made a point to go to every event held at the castle, desperate to insert themselves into the true nobility of the kingdom instead of being happy with the comfort of her father’s will, the inheritance that they had stolen from her. Delphi had not been interested. And even if she had, she doubted that she would have been allowed to go. The estate was her prison, and there was little chance of the Matron giving her any chance of escape, including marriage.

But this ball… The feeling in her gut only grew, warm and heavy as she read the announcement over and over again. The sixteenth of August, only a few days away. If she wanted to go, she would need to obtain a dress. Everything fine she’d once owned had been sold, although she had held onto her mother’s pearls. There was no chance that her stepmother would allow her to borrow a dress, and none of the ball gowns the slender, tall Matron owned would fit curvy, small Delphi. She would have to sew something herself, drag out the old patterns from her mother’s chest and rely on her own skill and steady hands instead of a machine. She pulled out her purse, carefully counting what she had saved. Not enough to buy a fine ball gown, but…

Delphi stepped into the fabric store, passing the usual rough cottons and wools that she bought cheap to make her every day clothing. Instead, she stopped in front of spools of pale blue tulle, satin that looked as if it flowed like water. With what she had in her own purse, she would have just enough to make a gown for herself, dragging out an old petticoat from the trunk. Heart warm and full of hope, she gladly handed over all of her savings, carefully folding away the fabrics in her basket.

For the entire journey home, she had a spring in her step, the announcement flyer folded and tucked carefully away inside of her dress pocket. It would be difficult, sewing a dress for herself in time. But if she stayed up all night, worked hard and carefully hid it away from her stepmother’s sight…

She was going to the ball. And she would not let anything stop her.

\---

The day of the birthday ball, Delphi woke early. It would be hours before her family rose from their beds, and she had just a few finishing touches to make on the dress. She was pleased with how it had come out, her stitches even and perfect, the measurements she had taken for herself allowing for it to fit her like a glove. Spreading the dress out on her work table, she carefully stitched on the last bit of tulle. When she held the dress up, the fabric fell perfectly. A soft blue, like clear skies that were so rare in Gotham, clouds of tulle for the skirt and satin making up the bodice. She carefully hid it away once more, folding it gently and covering it with the few rough dresses and skirts that she owned. If her stepmother did poke around inside her room, she hoped it was hidden enough to avoid being found.

She quickly made breakfast for the Matron and Jean-Paul, sat in the kitchen and had her own morning cup of tea. They left quickly, preparations still needing to be made for their own attendance of the ball. When Delphi had quietly asked permission to go, her stepmother had shut her down quickly. Forbade her from going, unless she wanted a deeply severe punishment. But she did not fear her stepmother’s wrath. She did not fear anything, not in the wake of the warm joy she felt knowing that she would soon see her hunter once more. Even if all she would obtain from the meeting was his name, she would be happy. She could find some joy in living out the rest of her life in captivity, if she at least had a name to give to her sweetest daydream.

Binding up her hair with her mother’s ribbon, she quickly finished her morning chores, collecting eggs and milking the goat, before she ran off into the forest. She had not seen her fox since her discovery of the flyer, focusing the free time that she did have on her sewing. She had left her shoes haphazardly by the coop, did not tie up her skirts, as they did not fall past her knees. Her clothing caught on branches, but she did not care. The hem of her skirt was heavy with water when she waded through the river, out of breath when she reached the wisteria tree.

“Fox?” she called out, pressing a hand against the smooth trunk. “Are you there?”

Summoned by her call, Delphi heard the soft chiming of bells around the creature’s neck before she appeared, leaping down from the low flowering branches. The girl caught her easily, laughed softly when the fox nuzzled against her neck, her cheek. She’d missed the warm affection, the way the fox’s blue eyes were always so attentive when Delphi spoke to her. Always a one-sided conversation, but one that was far more fulfilling than any she’d ever had with her stepmother or stepbrother. Delphi settled down beneath the tree, leaning back against the trunk and letting the fox settle in her lap. A soft breeze blew through the branches, a light shower of fragile petals falling.

“I’m sorry for my absence,” she said, stroking the fox’s soft, beautiful fur. “I’ve been busy. There’s a royal ball tonight. I’ve avoided all the others, but… but my omens have been telling me that I should go to this one. That I might see that hunter again.”

The fox chittered, nuzzling against her palm. A happy response, she thought.

“I’ve sewn my own dress. It’s not as fancy as some that the nobles will wear, but… I’m pleased with it. I think I may even look pretty in it.” She smiled, settling further back against the tree and staring up through the branches at the sky. “My stepmother has forbidden me from going. But if I am careful, I think I can sneak away long enough to find him. Maybe even have a dance with him.”

Delphi had not had dancing lessons since her father had passed away. But the movements had always come naturally to her, her limbs wanting to move. She danced when she had moments alone, hummed songs that caught in her head as she did so. Perhaps she wouldn’t be as fluid and practiced as the rich and noble ladies, but she could at least be passable. Although there was always the terrible chance that her omens would suddenly prove wrong, that they would miss each other once more… She couldn’t believe it. Every inch of her heart was screaming that she would see him, finally, once more.

“I’m being silly, aren’t I?” Delphi sighed, let her eyes slip closed.

A soft, chittering purr was the fox’s only response. She pressed close to Delphi, settled down to nap lightly in her lap. There was little time she could spare to the forest, so many things she still had to do. Murmuring a soft apology to the fox, she stood, brushed her skirts and hair as clean as she could. But she bent to give the spirit one last pet, her heart full.

“I’ll come back, as soon as I can, to let you know all about it.” She smiled, the fox’s eyes sparkling with returned joy. “Thank you, again, for listening.”

With that, she ran back through the forest. Returned to the estate, hurriedly putting her shoes back on and going inside. She tried to smother her joy, remain as quiet and melancholy as she usually was once the Matron and Jean-Paul returned. The dress that her stepmother had found was a fine thing, all dark, flowing layers of fabric that matched the obsidian jewelry she had bought. Jean-Paul’s suit was just as fine. As she cooked their dinner for them, she tried not to let her jealousy show. She’d been proud of her dress, but… it looked cheap, homely. At least in comparison. Excusing herself early from her dinner and wishing her family good luck at the ball, she ran up the steps to the attic. In a rush, she wiped the grime from her skin, pulled on a slip, petticoat, and her dress, and took out her mother’s pearls.

Although she would never pass as nobility, although she did not look as beautiful as her stepmother had… She still thought that she would not stick out too badly. Her hair was bound simply with her mother’s ribbon, but she did not think she needed any fancy hairstyles. She did not have any cosmetics, either, but she did not think that she needed them. In order to avoid being discovered, she would not be staying long, anyways. Just long enough to find him, to get his name. That was all it would take to make her happy. Delphi stared at her reflection in the dingy mirror, standing up a little bit straighter and allowing herself to smile. Good things. Only good things.

But when she turned, her heart dropped. Jean-Paul stood in the doorway, eyes dark. It had always been hard for her to read him, to decipher his pensive expressions and puzzle out his strange moods. There was no doubt looking at him, however, that he was angry. When he stepped into her room, she took a shaking step back.

“Mother forbade you from going to the ball,” he said, voice low. “Do you intend to disobey her?”

“No,” she said, holding up her hands, “I only—”

“What use do you have for a ballgown keeping house, stepsister?” Jean-Paul took another step towards her. “Is every word you speak a lie?”

“No.” Delphi’s voice shook as her back hit the wall, her stepbrother driving her into a corner. Her hands shook, clutching at the tulle skirt of her dress. “Jean-Paul, please—”

He was rough when he grabbed her, grip on her upper arm bruising as he dragged her from her room. Delphi tried to fight back, tried to wrench herself from his grip. But he was too strong and she was too weak, stumbling down the steps behind him. When he reached the sitting room, he threw her to the ground, a small gasp of pain leaving her at the sharp, bruising contact. Her left wrist stung, her eyes watering as she lifted her head to find her stepmother glaring down at her.

“You impudent, horrible child.” The Matron’s voice was full of rage, her expression pinched with it. “This is why you’ve been in such a strange mood all night. You intended to sneak out behind my back, found some joy in disobeying me.”

“Stepmother, I—”

“I forbade you from going to the ball. But you still made some childish, silly gown in hopes of going there and making an unseemly mess of yourself. You would do nothing but reflect poorly on us. Ruin your stepbrother’s chances of finding a wealthy noblewoman to marry.” The Matron bent down, grasping Delphi by the hair and yanking her up to her feet. “Everything you touch, you ruin and spoil.”

“Please.” Delphi could not hold back her tears, wincing as her stepmother yanked her hair again, pulled the ribbon from it. “I just… I wanted…”

“It does not matter what you wanted. You will be obedient, for once in your life. You will stay here, and I will make sure of it. And once we return, you will face your punishment.”

“No!”

Delphi screamed as the Matron grabbed the skirt of her dress, ripping a long strip of fabric from it. Jean-Paul grabbed the delicate seams in the back, ripping way the entire back of the bodice. All of her hard work, destroyed in a matter of seconds. The sleeve of the dress slipped down her arm, the matron ripping it off as well. But she was not done. When Delphi fell to her knees, sobbing hysterically, her stepmother reached down and broke her mother’s string of pearls. They fell to the floor in a clattering mess around her. Still clutching the ribbon, the Matron glared down at her sobbing stepchild.

“Clean yourself up. Finish your evening chores. While we are at the ball, I will think of a suitable punishment for you.” The Matron slipped on her gloves, let her son escort her towards the door. “Oh, and be prepared to never go on those little trips of yours to the forest again. You will be under the strictest lock and key, at minimum.”

With those last, piercing words, she let Jean-Paul open the door. It closed with a final, terrible click, leaving the estate silent. Delphi continued to sob, the fragile hope she’d held in her heart shattered. Why had her omens not warned her of this? Why had they let her feel so much joy only for it to be burned away from her? The distant rumble of the carriage rolling down the road eventually bled away, disappeared entirely. She did not know how long she’d laid on the floor, but she slowly picked herself up. Let the tatters of the gown she’d made hang from her as she picked up the pearls one by one. Clutching them to her chest, wrist still stinging and beginning to bruise and swell, she left the house. She needed comfort, and there was only one place that she could find it.

Her trek through the woods was slow, her feet made clumsy by her grief. When she finally reached the heart of it, she collapsed once more at the riverside. A fresh wave of tears stung at her eyes, rolled down her flushed cheeks as she pressed her mother’s pearls close to her heart. There was no hope, no joy to find inside herself. Only despair.

“Why do you weep, child?”

A ringing, melodic voice, deep with some unspoken wisdom called out to her. Delphi sniffled, found that she could not lift her head. The weight of her sadness was too heavy, her back bowing under it.

“I have no hope left in me,” she answered, voice thick with tears. “The only joy I could find in my life was taken from me.”

“By your stepmother?” the voice asked.

There was a gentle touch to Delphi’s shoulder, one that radiated a familiar, warm magic through her body. Breath catching in her chest, she looked up, finding not the little fox spirit she had befriended. A beautiful woman stood before her, looking like a princess from the fairytales her mother had read to her. Her long, snow white hair brushed the ground, her robes made of a fine silk and embroidered in shining thread. But it was her eyes that gave Delphi pause. They were the same piercing blue eyes of her fox, kind as the woman gave her a comforting smile. Red marks stood out on her pale cheeks, like whiskers, her skin fine and flawless as porcelain. Delphi was struck silent by the sheer, shining beauty of the woman before her, sobs quieting in her awe.

“You’re…” Delphi found her voice once more, letting the woman take her elbow and pull her to her feet. “You’re my fox.”

“I am.” She smiled, her warm hands cradling Delphi’s. “My name is Sumiko. I’m afraid that because of my… condition, I can only appear as I truly am during the night. There are many times that I wished to speak back to you, sweet girl. Many times when I wished that I could offer you comfort and save you from your situation. But I am bound by many strict rules, and the scope with which I can help you is unfortunately limited. If it helps you can think of me as a… fairy godmother, of sorts.”

Coaxing Delphi’s hands open, Sumiko looked down sadly at the loose pearls, the broken string she had collected.

“These were your adopted mother’s.”

“Yes,” Delphi sniffled, twitching when the woman’s fingers brushed against her aching wrist. “They… They’re one of the last things I have of her. Her ribbon was taken from me, too. I… I keep losing so much of her.”

“They can be restrung. Even when things seem irrevocably broken, there is always a way to fix them.” Sumiko pressed her fingers around Delphi’s wrist, giving the girl an apologetic smile when she winced. There was a warm rush, a tingling where the fox’s fingers met her skin. When she pulled away, the pain had faded. There was no more bruising, the damage healed. “Your poor dress… You spent so long making it.”

“It’s ruined. I can’t repair it. I can’t… I can’t go to the ball now. I can’t find…” She swallowed thickly, fighting back another fresh wave of tears. “I can’t find him.”

“As I said, there is always a way to fix things.” Sumiko gently coaxed her to follow her through the river, leading her to stand beneath the tree. “My magic here is limited. But I can cast a spell to fix your dress. Make it finer than it was before, make you shine the way you were meant to. Because you will go to that ball. You must find the… hunter.”

Blinking, Delphi stayed where she was when Sumiko took a small step back. The fox spirit closed her eyes, raising her hands. The long sleeves of her robes fell back, rippling in the wind that picked up. She spoke in a language that the girl did not recognize, the words weaving together, her voice so melodic it was almost like a song. There was a strung rush of wind, blowing back Delphi’s unbound hair. A warmth tingled over her skin, a rush that felt electric. She closed her eyes, braced herself as it flowed over her, the fabric of her tattered dress lifting and her hair floating around her head. There was a surge in the melody, Sumiko’s voice raising in volume, the magic slipping over Delphi’s skin almost overwhelming. And then… and then there was silence. The girl took a deep breath and slowly opened her eyes.

“Take a look,” Sumiko told her softly, motioning to the reflective surface of the river. Still, despite the breeze.

Holding her breath, Delphi approached the river bank. When she saw herself, felt the emptiness in her hands, she let out a shaking sigh. Gone was the tattered silk and tulle. Instead, her dress had become a fine, pale fabric. The wisteria blossoms had become part of the long, trailing dress she wore, scattered around the bodice and lining the bottom of the skirt. When she ran her hands over the skirts, they were soft to the touch, felt light despite the many layers. Her arms were left bare, the neckline plunging, a few blossoms on the shimmering fabric that held the dress secure at her shoulders. When she turned, she saw that the back was open, save for strings of her mother’s pearls that ran from one side of the bodice to the other. Her hair shone, only partially bound with more of the wisteria flowers wound into it. The pins that held the delicate twisted section were a shining ivory, seeming dotted with the stars themselves. There was a glitter to her cheeks, her eyelids, lips a pleasing red and her eyelashes long and dark.

The beautiful girl in her beautiful dress in the river could not be her. But she looked down at herself, ran her hands over the dress, brushed her fingers through her hair. She touched the thin satin ribbon choker on her throat, a silver fox charm dangling from it. When she turned to Sumiko, the billowing skirts of the dress lifted, floated around her like air, revealing crystalline slippers on her feet. But the slippers were not hard, were broken in and soft, easy to move in as she took a cautious step towards the other woman. Delphi lifted her skirts, terrified of dirtying them. It was the finest dress she had ever seen, the finest dress she would ever wear.

“I… Sumiko, I can’t…” she whispered, filled with an indescribable warmth. She could not cry, could not risk ruining whatever illusory makeup that had been placed on her.

“You can. You will.” The fox spirit took her hands, smiling up at her. “Now, listen to me. Because my magic is limited, the spell can only last for so long. You will have until the stroke of midnight. I will send you to the palace gates, but you must find your own way back. Once midnight strikes, you will be on your own. This form is already beginning to fade.”

Midnight. That still gave her several hours, more than enough time. She held Sumiko’s hands in her own, gave them a soft squeeze.

“You’re certain that… that he’s there? The man I seek?” she asked.

“He is. And he’s been searching for you, too.” Sumiko squeezed Delphi’s hands in return before stepping back once more. “Remember, sweet girl. Midnight. Enjoy yourself. You deserve this happiness.”

Delphi nodded, hands clutched to her chest. The bracelet the fox had given her still sat on her wrist, the cold fire in the bead flickering wildly.

“Now, close your eyes.” Sumiko let out a laugh that sounded like a fox’s chitter when Delphi obeyed, her voice distant. “Count down from five. And when you open your eyes, there will be a miracle.”

Taking a shuddering breath, Delphi clasped her hands tighter over her racing heart. Slowly, she began to count.

“Five…” A rush of wind, catching her skirts and hair. “Four…” The wind picked up, Sumiko’s gentle presence fading away. “Three…” There were no other noises, no quiet babbling brook or bird song. “Two…” The roar of the wind seemed to pick up her voice, carry it. “One.”

After another quiet moment, Delphi slowly opened her eyes. She was no longer standing in the heart of the woods beneath the wisteria tree. The world slowly crept back in, muted chatter and the distant sound of horse’s hooves and creaking of carriage wheels. Delphi stared up at the gates of the castle, the dark spires and twisting arches.

“A miracle,” she breathed.

She stepped out of the way of a couple in fine clothes, suddenly aware of the gazes that were drifting towards her. Taking another deep breath, she lifted up her skirts and stepped through the gates, sending quiet thanks to her fairy godmother, hoping that the gratitude would reach her.

\---

“Looking forward to your little birthday bash?”

Prince Jason glanced over at the god, still standing in front of a full length mirror, adjusting the cuffs of his suit. It was strange, seeing her in a form other than a raven. When she’d first walked into the room, he’d nearly thrown her out the window, startled by the sudden appearance of a strange woman. But he’d known it was the god the moment she opened her mouth, her red eyes glowing in frustration and annoyance. She’d draped herself over a lounging chair, the ornate red dress she wore the same shade as the waistcoat of his suit. Matching, she’d told him with a vicious grin.

“You said that the girl would be here,” he said.

“Yes, yes.” The god sighed, waving a hand dismissively and brushing her raven black hair behind her ear. “She will be here. Any other inane questions, or may I finally relay important information to you?”

Jason grumbled, but did not ask anything further. Turning to her, he folded his arms over his chest.

“Good. Now, listen closely.” Standing up, she stepped closer to him. He tried not to flinch when she straightened his tie, slicked back a stray bit of hair. “The girl will arrive here. While you may have some nonsense princely duties expected of you, your main concern must be with finding her. Once you do, you cannot let her go.”

“Why would I do that?” he snorted, jerking away when she tried to keep smoothing back his hair. “I’ve been looking for her for over a month.”

“There are outside forces at work, little prince.” Frowning, the god stepped back, folded her hands primly in front of her. “They will try to pull her away from you. You cannot let her go, no matter what. If she runs, you must follow. Do not let her out of your sight.”

Frowning, he watched her as she walked over to the doors of his bedroom, opening them. He lingered for a moment, cold doubt settling in the pit of his stomach.

“Is she in danger?”

“That will be for you to discover,” she told him, cryptic as ever. “Come, prince. We cannot linger any further.”

Although Jason wanted desperately to pry more information from her, he knew better than to waste his time. What she’d told him was all he would ever learn from the god. Everything else… Everything else would fall to him to learn. It was frustrating, having to puzzle out so many things. Why was this girl so important to the god? Why was it so important that he not let her go? What was it that would lead her to run from him? So many questions with no answers in sight. At least, not yet. He would have to find peace with that.

Taking a deep breath, he stood straighter, puffed out his chest and held himself as he’d been taught to. Arrogant, above it all, proud. His face settled into a careful mask of neutrality as he walked down the hall towards the ballroom, the god at his side. Gazes seemed to slip away from her, no one noticing her presence at his side. The closest to invisible that she could be, her answering smirk to his questioning look irritating. But he couldn’t let it show as servants threw open the doors to the ballroom, a cacophony of noise rushing at him. Although it was his ball, he’d been allowed to show up late. His father had greeted the guests, Richard at his side. Now, as he approached the top of the stairs, he looked over the crowd. A sea of fine fabrics and glinting jewelry, gaudy head pieces and brilliant colors shining under the warm lights. The band played a jaunty song, the couples on the dance floor laughing and chattering as they spun and weaved around one another.

His heart sank. With so many people crowded into the large space, how was he supposed to find her? The second he stepped out onto the floor, he would have people bothering him, asking him to dance with them, wishing him a happy birthday, chattering at him about utterly inane things. He didn’t have time for that. He had to find her quickly, or he feared that she would slip away from him. Nanashi stood at his elbow, her eyes scanning the crowd as well. Surely she would spot the girl, let him know when—

“About time you showed up.” Richard threw an arm around Jason’s shoulders, smiling warmly and looking pleased. Parties had always been his thing, his time to shine and charm those around him. He ignored the annoyed grunt he got in return, leaning heavily against the younger prince. “Any sign of your little mystery girl from the forest? You were so certain she’d be here.”

“I just got here.” Jason shrugged off his brother, straightened his waist coat and looked back out over the crowd. “B keeping busy?”

“For the moment. Can’t promise that I’ll be able to keep him off your back the whole night, though.” The older prince sighed, glancing over at the king, who was surrounded by giggling ladies, his smile strained. “If you give me at least a little hint about what your girl looks like, I can help you find her.”

Jason sighed heavily, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. Although he didn’t want his older brother getting too involved in his business, he had to admit that having another pair of eyes searching for her would help. With so many people present, so many faces to sort through, any help would be welcome.

“Silver hair,” Jason grumbled, “just look for silver hair and—”

He was cut off by his brother letting out a low whistle. Opening his eyes, Jason shot his brother an annoyed glare. Richard stared with open admiration at the entry way below. Some pretty thing had arrived, although with Richard’s wife nearby, Jason doubted that the older prince would do anything. Rolling his eyes, Jason cast his gaze towards the doors and froze. Time ground to a halt, the noise of the people around him and the music playing fading away.

“Who is she?” Richard asked, leaning forward against the railing of the stairs. “I’d remember a face like—”

He did not get time to finish his sentence. Nanashi had pressed close to Jason’s side, voice overwhelming everything else, a dark whisper in his ear.

“Go to her,” she said.

There was no need to say anything further. Jason dashed down the stairs, heart in his throat and hope burning bright in his chest.

She was here. And he would make sure not to let her go.

\---

Delphi nervously entered the ballroom, an usher helping her down the steps, and felt immediately overwhelmed. It was so brightly lit, so many people around her, talking and laughing and whispering. Dancers moved gracefully on the floor, skirts flowing and twirling and lifting. The music was bright, jaunty. Full of an energy that did nothing to banish her nerves. She knew no one there. And with so many people… How could she hope to find her hunter? The usher bowed to her, released her hand and stepped way to help the ladies behind her. Lifting her skirts once more, she tried to gather what little courage she had as she moved towards the crowd.

How easily she could have gotten lost in a sea of unfamiliar faces. She tried her best not to brush up against anyone, politely apologizing if she did, curling in on herself. This was not a place she belonged. It was opulent, shining, bright. Not dark or dingy or plain, like her. But she couldn’t turn back. Who was her hunter, that he could be found among the nobles and politicians, generals and merchants? Perhaps he had come from a noble family. Although his clothes had been plain, the sword that he had drawn on her had been well-crafted. A sign of some wealth, she thought. But with each face she glanced at, each person who she passed by, trying to work her way towards the outer edges of the crowd, she found no sign of him.

Perhaps this was foolish. Perhaps the fox had wasted so much of her magic on a foolish errand, fueled by a girlish heart. She began to wilt, cast her gaze to the floor and stood still. Although hope had been lit in her heart once more, despair still creeped there, cold and ever present. Even with all the time she had, she was no longer certain if it would be enough. A murmur rose in the crowd around her, gasps and whispers. People parted, silence falling around her.

And when she looked up… He was there.

“It’s you,” he breathed.

Her hunter, her handsome hunter, took her breath away. The dark suit he wore was made of fine, shining cloth, tailored perfectly and flattering to his broad frame. The trailing black coat only made him seem taller, silver cuff links shining like stars. His scarlet waist coat and tie provided a pop of color, brought out a warm amber in his eyes. His dark hair had been slicked back, a few strands of the white streak falling in his eyes. When he reached for her, she noticed that he wore dark gloves, his leather boots shining in the warm light. As if pulled towards him, she reached out as well, rested her hand in his. This man was not just some hunter, a noble son who had gotten lost in the woods.

“I…” It was hard to find words, the sight of him still rendering her breathless. His fingers curled carefully around hers, his hand so large compared to her own. “I found you,” she finally whispered.

“And I found you.” His eyes were wide as he looked her over, his own voice soft and as breathless as her own. “You… You look…”

Delphi stepped closer to him. He immediately did the same, his head bowing towards her. She lifted her own, not wanting to break eye contact with him. Not yet. She wanted to memorize the way he looked at her, as if she… as if she were _truly beautiful_.

“You’re not just a hunter, are you?” she asked, smiling shyly.

That seemed to break him from his trance. He smiled back, warm and amused. His chuckle was low, sent a shiver down her spine.

“Cat’s out of the bag, huh?” His thumb brushed over the back of her hand, featherlight. “I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself before. My name is Jason.”

Jason. The prince, whose birthday was the occasion for the ball. That was why she’d gotten that fluttering feeling. Her omens had led her correctly, despite the bumps in the road.

“Oh.” She blinked, shy once more. “You’re… you’re the prince.”

“I am.” He took a deep breath, straightened and took a small step back. “And I was hoping you’d do me the honor of dancing with me.”

“I…” Delphi stared up at him, knowing that she should have felt small in his presence. But instead she felt… comfortable. Although she was nothing, a common girl, a servant, she did not feel lesser. Something in him called out to her, although she could not say what exactly it was. “I’m just…”

“You know how to waltz, right?” His smile was warm, comforting. No judgement in his eyes as he lowered himself into a bow. “Please, allow me this one selfish request on my birthday, and let me steal just a little more time from you.”

When he glanced up, she smiled, falling into her own curtsy.

“I don’t think you can steal what is willingly given, Your Highness,” she murmured, heart swelling when his eyes lit up. “I would be honored.”

The prince did not say anything further. He did not need to. Standing straight, he led her towards the dance floor, her steps light and buoyed by the joy she felt at finally finding him. Not only that, but she was getting her dance with him. It all seemed far too wonderful to be real. But his hand holding hers was real, solid. She could feel the warmth of his skin, even through the glove he wore. The crowd parted for him, whispers falling into silence, the stares of the people Delphi passed weighing heavily on her. Because they weren’t just looking as the prince finally led her onto the dance floor. No, they were _definitely_ staring. Delphi did her best to hold herself straight and proud, keep her posture proper as she’d learned so many years ago.

The music shifted into a slow, sweeping waltz, the strings falling into a romantic melody. Face flushed and fingers shaking, she let the prince take her hand properly, the other coming to rest high on her back. As easily as breathing, she rested her free hand on his upper arm, the music swelling as he led her into a slow waltz. His movements were fluid, graceful, despite the fact that he was so tall, built like many of the career soldiers she saw in town. He handled her gently, as well, his touch light, his grip on her hand just firm enough to help lead her steps. Although she had feared that she would trip on the long, trailing skirt of her dress or step on his toes, she followed easily. Fell naturally into the rhythm, light on her toes, remembering the lessons she’d had so many years ago. But unlike the moments when she had waltzed in the kitchen, in the sitting room, in the cramped attic, she now had a partner. A skilled one, too. He guided her into a spin, her dress swirling up around her legs. His hand came to rest on her back once more as he swept her around the floor, other dancers moving away, giving them space.

“They’re looking at you,” she whispered, pressing closer to him, hoping to hide away behind his large frame.

“No, believe me,” he whispered back. When she looked up at him, his smile held… something in it. An affection that she had not seen before. He held her close, guided each careful step that they took together. “They’re all looking at you.”

Flushed, breathless with joy, he spun her once more, a soft laugh slipping past her lips as he drew her back to him. But his arm curled around her waist, pulled her flush against him. He swept her along the edges of the crowd, as if presenting her to them, never once stepping on her swirling skirts. When he dipped her, she did not feel any fear, hair brushing against the floor and head tipping back before he smoothly lifted her back up. A quiet display of strength, even as he handled her like fine china, something that could shatter if even just a fraction too much pressure was applied.

All too soon, the song came to an end. He released her, stepped back so that he could press a hand over his heart and bow to her. She curtsied in return, already missing his touch, the way he guided her so easily. When their gazes met again, he pulled her back to him. A faster paced song played, a beat she wasn’t familiar with. But he still eased her into dancing once more, his lead expert and easy to follow. Even if the steps had not been easy, her body gravitating back to him with each spin, each dip, he still would have led her so that it seemed she’d known the dance her whole life. When he lifted her with an ease that stole her breath all over again, her hands braced on his shoulders, she thought her heart would burst out of her chest, fly away into the night.

One dance turned into two, then three, then four, until finally they paused. Delphi stared up at him breathlessly, wondered once more if she was simply dreaming, if she would wake up at any moment. The prince stared back down at her, his hand lingering on her waist.

“I think… I think I’d like some fresh air,” she murmured, finally looking away, shy once more.

“If you’ll allow me to continue to selfishly keep you to myself,” he answered, “I know a quiet place. Somewhere we can get away from all of the noise and the stares.”

“Please.” Delphi smiled, melting with relief.

All of the attention was starting to wear on her, make her anxious. Had her stepmother seen her? Had Jean-Paul? Would they come storming over at any moment and rip her out of her prince’s arms? The further she got from the ballroom, the lower the chances were of being caught. Jason guided her to link her arm with his, guiding her away from the crowds. Faintly, she swore that she could hear someone calling his name. But if he did hear, he ignored the person calling for him, sweeping her away from the very edges of the crowd and out away from the ball.

Jason led her through the expansive gardens, still close enough that they could faintly hear the music coming from the ballroom. Warm lamps lit paths through carefully trimmed hedges and bright patches of flowers from all corners of the earth. Delphi had not gotten a formal education in botany, but she knew enough to be impressed by the collection of flora they walked past. She paused when they came across blooming hydrangeas in all different colors, her eyes wide.

“How are these still blooming?” she asked, slipping her hand from his arm to step closer to the flowers. “It’s cold enough that they should be dormant. And the colors, how can you get so many different pH levels in such a small space?”

“Impressive, right?” He stepped up next to her, hands slipping into the pockets of his trousers. “Our groundskeeper has a pretty extensive background in botanical sciences. Helps that she also has a bit of a magic touch.”

Delphi pretended to look over the careful gradients of color in the flowers while she watched the prince from the corner of her eye. His expression was warm, his eyes having slipped back over to her. When he caught her looking, his smile turned crooked. Roguish and charming, making her heart skip a beat.

“All of these flowers pale in comparison to you,” he told her, voice low.

“You flatter me,” she whispered, flushed as she lowered her gaze to the ground.

“Is it flattery if it’s the truth?” the prince responded, holding out his hand to her. “If you think the hydrangeas are amazing, wait until you see the orchids.”

There was no hesitation on Delphi’s part. She immediately placed her hand in his, the curl of his fingers around her own making the thing that bloomed in her chest unfurl further. As he led her further down the path, she idly wished that he wasn’t wearing gloves. She wanted to feel his calloused skin, map it out with her fingertips. But for the moment… for the moment, she was content with this small touch. She would take anything that she could get from him, blooming slowly in his warm presence. His voice was soft, pitched low as he pointed out the various exotic flower varieties, the out of season blossoming trees and vines on delicate trellises. Time passed, yet seemed separate from this new reality. The path led to a large, beautiful gazebo. Painted with a black lacquer, just like everything else, nearly blending in with the night. But the curving structure was far less imposing than the rest of the architecture, more delicate. A beauty in the darkness, instead of intimidation.

Jason helped her up the low steps, let her fingers slip away from his as she took the structure in, let her fingers brush over a flowering vine growing on one of the supports. When she glanced back at him, he was still watching her. His eyes had barely left her since he’d found her in the crowd. As if he was trying to memorize every little detail of her, unable to look away. It made her shy, but also filled her with a strange bit of pride. If she was really so unseemly as the Matron had said she was, if her mere presence could ruin what little reputation the family had, then why was this handsome prince staring at her like she was one of the wonders of the world?

“I looked for you,” he finally said. He closed the short distance between them in two long strides, his warm brown eyes searching her own. “Every night, I tried to find you.”

“Why?” she whispered, heart in her throat when his hand settled lightly on her waist.

“Because I needed to see you again.” He pulled her closer, voice low as she let her hands rest on his chest. “Who are you?”

A dangerous little question. Because for all of his power and connections, Delphi was uncertain if even he could free her from the prison her home had become. Once her father had passed away, she’d all but ceased to exist, unreported on the annual census and never seeing a dime of what her father had meant to be given to her. In almost every regard, she was invisible. A ghost, barely tethered to reality. But she wanted him to know. He had given her his name, and it was only fair to offer him the same.

“My name is Delphi.” She whispered it, eyelashes fluttering as his other hand cupped her cheek. Tenderly, gently. “I’m nobody.”

“Delphi…” The way he said her name, so low, so careful, sent a shiver down her spine. It felt like a secret, shared from one heart to another. “Why are you so hard to find?”

“Like I said.” She leaned into his touch, fingers curling as the distance between them began to close. “I’m no one.”

“That can’t be true.” Jason’s forehead rested lightly against her own, eyes searching hers. “You’re a miracle. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Intriguing, mysterious. I…”

The prince trailed off. She could feel his warm breath ghosting over her skin, knew that if she just raised herself up a fraction, she could kiss him. It would have been so easy, both of them gravitating towards one another. Two strangers who shared some unspoken connection, something that had drawn them together. Just as his fingers tightened on her waist, eyes slipping closed and lips brushing feather light against her own, the dream was shattered.

The first chime of the clock. Midnight. Delphi’s eyes flew open, the molten, syrupy affection that had filled her close to bursting immediately turning into cold, icy dread. Her time was up. Jerking away from him, she felt her heart lurch as his eyes opened and he looked at her with an expression of pure hurt and confusion.

“I have to go,” she said, taking another step back.

“What?” Jason looked panicked, tried to reach back out for her.

But she stumbled out of his reach, even though all she wanted was to throw herself back into his arms. She couldn’t. There was no way she could let him see her once the spell broke, see how she’d been ruined and broken down.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, refusing to let herself cry. She blinked back hot tears, breath catching as the second chime rang out. There was no time, not anymore. But there was one last thing to say. “Find me. Please.”

Before he could respond, Delphi turned and ran. As fast as she could, losing her crystalline slippers and hitching up the skirts of her dress. A third chime rang as she slipped through a gap in the gates, dress catching on a sharp edge for a terrible moment until she managed to wrench herself free. By the fourth chime, she ran fleet footed as a startled doe through the empty streets of the city, the spell already slipping away.

On the fifth chime, she let herself cry, stumbled and fell, scraping her palms on the cobblestone streets. But she heard a distant raven’s call and knew that she could not let herself crumple. Not yet. Delphi ran, and tried to tell herself that her heart wasn’t breaking with each step.

\---

A rustle of feathers drew Jason from the trance he had been in, staring at the spot where the girl… where _Delphi_ had once stood. The god was a raven once more, lit on his shoulder and spoke directly in his ear.

“Do not let her go!” the god screamed, talons digging into his shoulder. “Chase after her, prince.”

Expression hardening, Jason let the god fly off, feathers glinting in the cold light of the moon. Of course. He could not let her escape. Taking a deep breath, the prince steeled himself and began to hunt as the clock struck midnight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sumiko belongs to [the lovely mari!](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bringmetea)
> 
> part two of three


	5. Bloom: Finale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> chapter warnings: explicit domestic violence/abuse
> 
> the prince hunts for the miracle, and the girl finds herself once more in fate's grasp...
> 
> (a cinderella-esque AU starring Delphi and Jason)

The crystalline slippers were the first sign of Delphi that Jason found. Abandoned thoughtlessly, kicked off so that she could run unhindered, only a few feet away from a small opening in the gate. A piece of tulle had gotten caught on one of the sharp edges, another small sign of her. A piece to help him hunt, to track her down. Setting the slippers down by the fence so he could retrieve them later, he slipped the piece of tulle into the pocket of his waistcoat and scaled the fence. The raven circled overhead, letting out a rasping cry before she took off towards the city. Jason kept up, watching the god as she led him down the path the girl had taken. How she’d managed to run so fast, he had no idea. She hadn’t seemed an athlete, but with as fast as he ran, she was faster than even the most fleet-footed deer he’d hunted. Perhaps it was fear that had driven her to escape so quickly. But he hoped that he hadn’t failed and lost her forever.

There was something that pulled at him, something that led him down the right path, even without the god’s help. A quiet whisper at the back of his mind that led him on the right path. Near the edge of town, he paused, catching his breath. Pearls were scattered on the ground. Ones that he could have sworn he had seen on the back of Delphi’s bodice. Fear rose cold and terrible in his heart, a gentle tremble to his fingers as he collected the little pearls. They were small, not the finest ones that could be bought, but nice enough to cost a fair bit of money. Jason placed them in his pocket along with the tulle, sending up a quiet prayer to the god circling above him that something terrible had not happened to Delphi during her flight from the palace. Standing back up, he forced himself to push forward.

She would be okay. She _had_ to be okay. She’d asked for him to find her, and he would not let her down. Not when it seemed increasingly clear that something was wrong.

What had driven her to flee at exactly midnight? Why had she left behind her slippers, her pearls? More and more questions just seemed to pile up around her, and he had been so absorbed in her presence, in her appearance, that he hadn’t bothered to ask anything of her. All he had was her name, her assertion that she was nobody, and a few pieces of the fine dress she’d worn.

The pull at his heart drove him down a muddy path, her small footprints still fresh. Lucky, that she lived down an unpaved road. Instead of having to rely on the raven, or the pull, he merely had to follow her footprints. Jason had only been to the eastern outskirts of the city once, during his hunt. But it seemed that perhaps he’d been stupid not to start his initial search there, instead of being methodical and foolish in going through the entirety of the city. His pace slowed, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. How long he’d been running, he wasn’t entirely certain. But the girl’s trail came to an end at an unpaved drive, a small old estate that had seen better days.

“This is where she lives?” he whispered, coming to a stop at the end of the drive.

“So it seems.” The raven perched on his shoulder, ruffling her feathers. “A good hunt, little prince.”

“Wow, actual praise?” He snorted, moving around to the back of the house, frowning at the little chicken coop and the small pen for a sleeping goat. “Is she a farmer? A rancher?”

“No farmer would live in a home this large. Perhaps she is a merchant’s daughter,” the god suggested.

“Then why have I never seen her at any balls or celebrations before?” Nothing made sense. He glanced at the woods that bordered the back of the estate, the very woods where they’d been drawn together. “You know something, don’t you, god?”

“I know many things.” The god let out a low, velvety chuckle. “But you cannot rely on an old raven god to tell you everything. You have to learn for yourself. Find the answers without relying on others. It will not do either you or the girl any good if you are simply told what it is you need to know.”

“Nothing is ever easy with you gods, is it?” he growled, pacing the backyard.

“Nothing good ever comes easily,” she answered. “Look up.”

When he did so, he saw a light on. Faint, wavering. His brow furrowed, hands sliding into his trouser pockets as a shadow passed by it. A small lantern, likely. Very little light for a proper room.

“An attic?”

“So it seems.”

“Why would she be in an attic?”

“Perhaps when she said she was nobody, she was telling the truth. Do servants not live separately from the rest of the house?”

Oh. Jason blinked, watching the light continue to flicker in the attic. With her proper manner of speaking and strange accent, along with her polite curtsies and knowledge of dance, he’d assumed her a girl of some status. It could be possible that she was simply a servant girl, but that didn’t seem right, either. There was something else. Something that he was missing. Her being a commoner who stole a lady’s dress and snuck out to the ball would be the easy answer. But very few things about her seemed to be easy, and he doubted the solution would be so simple. The concern, then, would be why a merchant’s daughter of marriageable age had not attended any royal gatherings, had not been presented for matchmaking, and kept up in an attic room.

“No.” He shook his head, boots scuffing against a loose patch of gravel. “Something’s wrong. Something’s not right.”

“Duh,” the raven snorted.

The prince turned to glare at the god, but his complaints were cut short when he heard the approach of a carriage up the road. Glancing around the back of the house, he rushed to crouch behind the coop, holding his breath as the carriage came to a stop. He risked a glance, watched a young man who he _swore_ he had seen before help a woman out of the carriage. But he knew the woman. Or, rather, he knew her reputation. A shrewd, cruel woman who pushed her son on many noble families, desperate to marry up in the world after the man she’d married had passed away. How many times exactly she’d been widowed, no one knew. But she’d been ruthless in her pursuit of greater fortune, greater power.

Baphomet, that was her name. He watched her storm towards the front of the estate, far enough away that he couldn’t pick up the words that she was saying. But he knew anger and fury when he heard it. His heart sank further as he looked up, the light in the attic flickering away into darkness when the front doors slammed shut. Things were beginning to make sense. Why she had been so desperate to run away, why she’d looked so frightened when the clock struck midnight, why a young woman with an estate had never been presented for marriage. Why she’d been in the forest…

A home away from home, she’d said. Something was, in fact, very wrong.

Jason began to rise, but the raven nipped at his ear. He grunted in pain, glaring at her.

“Don’t be foolish. Rushing into the situation will only make it worse.” The god’s talons sank into his shoulder, her wings fluttering as she tried to pull him back and away.

“But you said not to let her go once I found her,” Jason argued, snarling and trying to wave the raven off of his shoulder. “I found her. Now you’re saying not to let her go?”

“I’m saying to not be so bull-headed and foolish as you usually are.” The god let out an annoyed caw, pecking at his hand. “Some things require finesse and careful planning, you stupid boy. Do you think that you can simply bust in, run up and drag her away into the sunset? She barely even _knows_ you. Think this through. That woman is clearly furious and dragging away the girl will only make it worse. Go home for the night. Remember this place. Smooth over the fury that your own father will feel at you ditching your own birthday party and then return tomorrow night.”

“Ow, fuck.” Jason retracted his hand after a particularly nasty peck, shaking it out and grumbling. Much as he hated to admit it… the raven had a point. He knew that he had a tendency to act first, think later that had gotten him into trouble before. And King Bruce was going to be _absolutely furious_ about Jason ditching his duties and disappearing for most of the night; showing up with a random girl would only make it worse. He had to play it smart, even if it was not what he wanted to do. With a heavy sigh, he waited until the muffled voices in the estate drifted into silence before he stood and snuck back towards the road. “Can I ask a favor of you?”

“You can ask, but that does not guarantee I’ll agree,” she told him.

“Yeah, I know, but…” He glanced back just before a bend in the road, the house a dark, looming specter in the distance. “I want to write her a note, once we get back. Could you give it to her, watch over her?”

The raven was silent for a long moment as he trudged back towards the castle, his fine suit and his boots muddy. Just when he was about to backtrack, to tell her not to bother with it, she sighed.

“Fine. I will do my best.”

“Thank you.” Shoulders slumping in relief, he glanced at her. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Ugh,” she groaned, ruffling her feathers again. “What is with this sudden demanding attitude? Fine. Ask.”

“If this girl is so important, why ask _me_ to hold onto her and keep her safe, instead of doing it yourself?”

Something strange happened then. For the first time, the raven seemed to… deflate. Her head dipped, the body language of the massive bird the first sign of guilt or sadness that he’d ever seen from her. It was alarming, if he was honest, to see her go from an egotistical bully to a quiet, sad bird.

“Things will be too complicated and dangerous in her life if I become directly involved. I needed to find someone who would be able to keep her safe. Better than I ever could, and who would be able to give her a happy, comfortable life.” Her voice was soft, not her usual hissing whisper. But gentle, fragile. “It just so happened to be you that fate tied her to.”

Jason fell silent for a while after that, absorbing the raven’s words. Just before he reached the open spot of the gate that he’d jumped over, he coaxed her to perch on his arm so that he could look at her better.

“Who is she, really?” he asked. “Why do you care about her safety?”

The raven simply stared at him, her glowing red eyes reflecting in the moonlight.

“I think it’s best that you, and she, never know the answer to those questions.”

An ominous, terrible thing to hear. But Jason also knew when to drop it, when not to needle her or else invoke her wrath. Letting her take off into the sky again, the prince climbed back over the gate and retrieved the crystalline slippers, turning them over in his hands. More mysteries, more questions, more secrets. Sighing, he resigned himself to facing his father’s wrath as he trudged back towards the ballroom. But if he played things right, if he was able to avoid the remainder of the ball and write a note that the god would surely deliver successfully, he hoped that he would see Delphi soon and fulfill his bargain with the strange, dark raven who had dragged him into her life.

\---

Delphi’s sleep had been fitful, her body curled tightly into one corner of her cot with her thin, moth-eaten blankets pulled up over her head. It wasn’t anything that would stop her stepmother or stepbrother if they had decided to barge in, to deal her swift punishment then and there. Through some stroke of luck, they’d both left her alone upon their return from the ball, but she knew that luck wouldn’t continue. Once they rose, she would have to weather their fury, grit her teeth and remind herself to be kind. Even with the lingering memories of Jason, she found her mood strange, not quite dark but far from hope. Her gut feelings, her omens, were a turbulent storm when she woke from her light sleep to a tapping on the attic window.

Startled, she sat bolt upright on the cot, wrapping the blankets around herself. She’d gone to bed in just her shift, her hair loose and wild around her head as she stared at the window. There was another round of tapping, louder and more irritated than the first ones had been. It couldn’t have been rain or hail; the rhythm was too tight, too controlled. Taking a deep breath, she slipped off the cot and opened the window.

The raven who had stolen her ribbon flew in, wings rustling as it came to perch on the mirror next to her trunk of clothes. She stared at it in alarm for a moment, fear settling cold in her gut. Although the raven was a companion to the prince, she still remembered how terrified she’d been when it had attacked her. But it did not act aggressively, instead bending its head to pull at a bit of rolled paper that had been placed on its leg. Delphi watched for a moment, still hesitant, before finally holding out her arm to the raven. It flew over to perch just above her wrist, lighter than she had expected despite how large it was. Letting out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, she reached out with careful fingers to untie the string around its leg, retrieving the paper. Once she had, the raven perched on the mirror once more, settling down and closing its eyes. Moving to sit on the edge of her cot, Delphi smoothed out the paper so that she could read it.

_Please meet me at the wisteria tree after midnight. After so many nights searching for you, I want to be able to see you again, so that my dreams of you can become a reality. If you are able to, please send this note back with a blue ribbon. If not, please do not feel any pressure. I will respect any decision you make, and treasure the memories of the brief time I was able to steal from you. -J_

Delphi stared at the note, reading it over and over again. For a prince, his penmanship was a bit rough, but she couldn’t help but find that fact a bit charming. As if he had no need for flourishes, dashing it down in a rush. The content, after all, was romantic enough. The only issue, however, was that Delphi was not certain how she would be able to get out of the house. Once the Matron woke, she would swiftly deliver whatever punishment she felt fit Delphi’s disobedience. Perhaps several nights without dinner, and almost definitely being locked up in her attic room once her stepmother and stepbrother retired for the evening. Although the window could not be locked from the outside, it was a bit of a perilous climb down.

But would she risk it for her prince? A hundred times over. There was no punishment severe enough that it would keep her from chasing down this new happiness she’d found.

Setting down the note, Delphi pulled out the tattered remains of her dress. It still hurt to see it, still stung to remember how easily so many hours of work had been destroyed. There was still a trace of Sumiko’s warm magic, not enough to perpetuate the spell, but enough to make her fingertips tingle as she carefully ripped off a section of the bodice. When she approached the raven with the strip of fabric and the note, it patiently held out its leg for her. She was careful not to tie the ribbon too tight, although she did secure the bow, tested it to make sure that it wouldn’t unravel on the flight back to the castle. Stepping back, she adjusted the blankets around her shoulders, watching as the raven preened itself, pulling out a single feather with its beak. When it stared her down, she held out her hand, let the bird drop the soft, shining feather in her hand. Brushing her thumb over it, she met the raven’s cold gaze, a more-than-animal intelligence in its eyes that was so similar to what she had seen in her fox.

“How did he find me?” she whispered, although she doubted the bird could answer her.

The raven let out a soft, croaking sound in response, head tilted to the side. Delphi sighed, collapsing on the bed once more.

“Right. Of course.” She watched the giant bird fly over to perch on the window sill, its red eyes still staring at her. “If… If you can talk to him…” She paused, feeling a bit silly. But… “Tell him that I’m sorry for running away so suddenly. But I’ll do my best to explain myself.”

Dipping its head in a startlingly accurate imitation of a nod, the raven took off. Delphi moved to watch its flight, dark wings disappearing into the distance as the first light of dawn bled into the sky. Taking a deep breath, she closed the window once more, locking it. Although she dreaded facing her stepmother’s wrath, feared what her punishment might be, she let the prospect of seeing her prince fill her with a warm, radiant bravery. So long as she could see him, feels his arms around her again, hold his hand just one last time, she could get through anything.

\---

Pacing under the wisteria tree, Jason pulled out his pocket watch, glancing at the time once more. The god perched up in one of the low branches, watching him with thinly veiled amusement. He knew that he had arrived much earlier than the time that Delphi had agreed upon with her silent response, but he could not help but feel antsy. Scared, that despite the fact she had agreed to meet with him, something would keep her away from him once more. Perhaps she had changed her mind, scared to meet so clandestinely with a man who held far more power than she did. Perhaps their scheme had been discovered and she had been locked away so tightly that there was no way for her to escape and come meet him.

It was only five minutes past midnight, but he feared that he would never see her again.

“You’re going to wear holes into the soles of your boots if you continue to pace like that,” the raven said, stinging amusement in her voice. “Relax. I told you what she said to me.”

“That doesn’t mean that something hasn’t happened to her.” Jason paused, glaring up at the raven. “Maybe I should go to the house. Check in, make sure—”

“She’ll come. Just have patience, little prince,” she chuckled. “Sit. Put down your bag. Take some deep breaths.”

Jason was tempted to tell the god where she could shove her opinions, but he knew that pacing and worrying would only make the wait worse. With a huff, he slung off the bag he’d brought with him, setting it under the wide trunk of the wisteria tree and sitting down heavily. The moon shone a bit brighter under its branches, the pale flowers seeming to emit their own light. A magic location, as he’d suspected before. Leaning back against the trunk, he stretched out his legs in front of him, closed his eyes. There was still a restlessness that he could not banish, fingers twitching as he folded his arms over his chest and tried to focus on his breathing, on the slow beat of his heart. It was a technique he’d been taught to soothe his hot temper, to cool off when he felt like acting on his anger instead of thinking things through. But it didn’t do much to alleviate his anxiety, his concern that something was wrong, that his brilliant plan had only led to more trouble, more problems.

A branch snapped. The prince’s eyes shot open and he scrambled to stand, looking out over the dark forest. A flickering light came into view and he breathed a short, silent sigh of relief when Delphi stepped out of the shadows, holding a small lantern. His relief, however, was short lived when she held the light up and he could see her face. There was a dark bruise blooming on one of her cheeks, dark bags under her eyes and a distance to her gaze. Although some light flickered back into her eyes when she saw him, it wasn’t the same brightness that he’d seen the night before, a darkness lingering in them as he ran through the river towards her.

“Your Highness, I’m sorry for—”

Her apology was cut short as he pulled her into a tight embrace, his hand cupping the back of her head. She froze for only a moment before she returned it, buried her face in his shoulder and let out a shuddering breath. It felt right, holding her so close, like she fit perfectly against him. Only once he’d tamped down on the molten rage that had risen in his chest at the sight of the bruise did he pull back, trying to keep his anger in check as he cradled her face in his hands.

“Please, just call me Jason.” After she gave a short nod, leaning ever so slightly into his touch, he let his thumb brush over the edge of the bruise. “What happened?”

“I… perhaps we should sit,” she said, voice soft. “I have a lot to explain.”

Silently, he took her hand, looked away pointedly when she pulled up her skirts to wade through the water with him. Only after she’d sat back against the wisteria tree, setting her lantern aside and settling down comfortably, did he sit down in front of her. Delphi took a deep breath, visibly gathering herself as she met his eyes, fingers curling into the rough cotton of her skirts. Although he was not particularly good at it, Jason tried his best to be patient. These things took time, especially if her situation was as bad as he suspected it was.

“I… I don’t really know where to start,” she finally said, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I’ve never really… had anyone to talk to about this.”

“Start wherever you think is best,” he told her, doing his best to give her an encouraging smile. “At the beginning, at the end… It’s your story, and only you know the best way to tell it.”

“Um, well.” Delphi cleared her throat again, looking away from him. “I guess… I guess I should start at the beginning then. My parents found me on their doorstep during a full moon and adopted me. They never knew who my birth parents were, and it didn’t really matter. When I was still little, my mother passed away. My father was a merchant, so he travelled a lot. I got really lonely, spent most of the time by myself, and he… he didn’t want me to grow up isolated. So he married my stepmother, who moved in with her son. Neither of them ever really liked me, and never treated me like family. My father passed away when I was eighteen. My stepmother controls the household, so I haven’t seen any of the inheritance I was supposed to get. She took it all. Sold most of my things, almost all of my mother’s things. I became a servant in the house, and…” She paused for a moment, fingers curling tighter in her skirt. “She resents me. I don’t know why. But she’s always called me unseemly. Ugly. Poor mannered, disobedient… When I asked to go to your ball, she refused, but I made a dress anyway. My stepbrother caught me, and… and they still went, but I had to be punished.”

“Let me… Let me get this straight.” Jason had to take a deep breath, but he could still hear the rough edge to his voice, had to curl his hands into fists to keep her from seeing the way they shook. “Your stepmother stole everything that rightfully belonged to you, turned you into a servant in your own home, refused to let you go to a ball that you, as the daughter of a well-off merchant, should have been allowed to attend, and then _punished you_ for simply planning to go? Did they see you there?”

“I don’t think so. If they did, neither of them mentioned it.” She reached up, fingertips brushing along the edge of the dark bruise. “It was just… just for wanting to go. It would have been worse if they knew. I had planned to get here in time, but I could still hear Jean-Paul awake and since my room was locked, I had to climb down and out of it.”

Gods above and below. This was why the god had pushed them together. This was why she had made it clear that he couldn’t let her go. Because she was in a situation that she couldn’t keep living in. Because he could already see that fragile bit of hope in her eyes beginning to waver when she risked a glance up at him. Jason barely knew the girl, but even if he hadn’t felt that pull to her, didn’t gravitate towards her, he wouldn’t have been able to leave her. He couldn’t leave _anyone_ in that kind of situation. But he could feel the raven’s cold gaze on him, and knew what she was trying to tell him. _Be smart about this._

“You want to get away, don’t you?” he asked. Careful, quiet, as gently as he could. He knew all too well how easy it was to tread on fresh pain, open up a wound that was still raw, still bleeding.

“I do.” She shifted slightly, folded her hands tightly in her lap once more. “But… I don’t know how.”

“Since you haven’t run away yet, I’m… guessing that’s not really an option.”

“I can’t just run away from my home. I… I grew up there, it was the home my father grew up in. I can’t just leave it.” She sighed, shaking her head. “And even if I did succeed in running, if I were willing to leave it all behind, there’s no guarantee that my stepmother would let me. If I’m not under her roof, under her thumb, I’m a threat to her hold on it all. She’d find me again, I just… I know it.”

“Then we’ll find a way to get you out,” he said. After a brief moment of hesitation, he reached out and took her hands in his. Felt the callouses on her fingers and palms, let the warmth of her skin sink into his own. Even with all the housework she’d done, a softness remained to her hands, something that couldn’t be so easily taken away. “And try to keep you from losing anything else.”

“You… You don’t have to do anything for me.” Delphi’s voice was terribly quiet, trailing off even as her fingers curled around his own. “I couldn’t ask that of you. You… You already have so much that you have to do, and I couldn’t ask you to sacrifice any of it just to—”

“You’re not asking anything of me,” he said, cutting her off and giving her hands a gentle squeeze. “I want to.”

“Why?”

Well, that was the most important question, wasn’t it? Why was he so willing to risk further punishment from his own father for sneaking out and focusing on something other than his duty to the kingdom? He’d caught enough hell the night before, endured what had seemed like an endless lecture from the king. Already, he was walking on thin ice, risking being sent away as an ambassador to some other allied kingdom as punishment, a lesson for his continued disobedience. But it was worth the risk. She was worth the risk. Because he wanted more nights like this one, sitting with her, spending time in her company, asking her about things that didn’t hurt her, learning about her and letting her learn about him. Jason wanted more moments where he felt… normal. Not like a prince, not like a man who never got a chance to be a boy, not like a ghost simply walking through life, waiting for a reason to truly start living. There was a warmth in his heart that banished the cold, any time he thought of her.

“Because there’s something about you.” The words didn’t quite seem like enough, but it was the best he could do. At least for the moment, at least until he could figure out the storm of his own feelings. Her fingers tightened around his, her eyes widening as he leaned closer to her. “Because you could ask anything of me, and I’d gladly do it.”

“How can you just… how can you just say that?” Delphi leaned towards him as well, her eyes searching his. “So easily, like it’s… it’s nothing…”

“It’s not nothing.” Jason shifted forward again, the space between them slowly beginning to close. A wisteria blossom drifted down, settled in her hair. He let go of her hands, gently brushing the flower out of it, letting his fingers comb through the soft strands. “I say it because I mean it. Like I said, there’s something about you.”

“I…” Delphi’s gaze dropped again, a pleasant heat to her cheek as he brushed his knuckles so featherlight against the skin. “There’s something about you, too.”

Shy, uncertain… but with an unwavering truth. When he cupped her cheek, she looked up at him once more, leaned into the touch. Even with her tired eyes, her bruised cheek, she seemed to glow under the moon and stars. Just as beautiful as she had been the night before, if not more. Although the way she looked at him, the way she leaned into him, made it clear that it wasn’t just him… It was good, to hear her say how she felt out loud. Her fingers curled around his wrist, long, dark lashes fluttering as she let out a soft sigh.

“Tell me something about yourself,” he whispered. “Anything. Something… something positive. Something you like, something you enjoy.”

“My stepbrother…” She spoke haltingly, voice barely above a whisper. “He had tutors, while we were growing up. I liked reading his books on philosophy and history… Learning the same languages he did.”

“A little academic, then.” He smiled, felt the warmth grow when she answered with a shaking smile of her own. “When I wasn’t hunting or taking classes as a kid, I liked spending time in the castle library. Books… they’re like…”

“Like a way to escape,” she finished for him. “A door into another world, another life.”

“Exactly.” Jason let out a soft laugh, breath hitching when she moved even closer. “You get it.”

“I do.” Delphi let her fingers slip from his wrist and up his arm, resting just below his elbow. “Tell me… tell me something else about you.”

And he did. He told her about his birthdays, about how he’d found solace in books and music, how he’d found a way to channel his anger into swordsmanship, how sometimes when he woke up in the morning, he simply sat and watched the sun rise, burned the colors and shapes of the clouds into his mind. He told her about his dreams for the city, how he hoped to make them a reality. And in return, she told him about how her mother used to braid her hair every morning, about the sweet smell of the tobacco her father used to smoke, the patience of the tutors she’d once had and the challenges of teaching herself things outside of keeping a home, hiding away her stepbrother’s old textbooks to study. She told him about how she used to sit outside as a child and trace each of the constellations, felt a kinship with the night that she simply could not explain.

The raven let out a sharp caw, drawing their attention. Jason had moved to sit next to Delphi, their shoulders touching, her hand in his. He glared up at the god, who managed to look smug, even as a bird. The girl visibly deflated a bit, glancing from the raven to him, her fingers curling tighter around his.

“You have to go,” she whispered, “don’t you?”

“Yeah.” He sighed, deeply unhappy. “I think so.”

With a grunt, he stood up, brushed dirt and petals off of his clothes and stretched his hand out to her. Delphi happily took it, letting him help her stand as well before he retrieved his bag. The raven hopped down to a lower branch as he opened it up.

“I also have a couple of things to return to you,” he said, reaching in and pulling out the crystalline slippers she’d left behind. She looked visibly surprised, carefully taking them from him. “You left them when you ran off.”

“Oh.” She blinked, staring at the slippers with wide eyes. After she took a deep breath, she looked back up at him. “Did you… did you find anything else?”

“I did.” Jason smiled as he closed the bag and watched the light in her eyes grow brighter. “A bunch of pearls, right?”

“Yes,” she breathed, clutching the slippers to her chest. “You… you found them…”

“I would give them back now, but I didn’t want to give you something that was still broken. Give me a few days, they should be restrung, and—”

Before he could finish, Delphi had dropped the shoes, rushing over to take his face in her hands. Then she was kissing him, his words dying on his lips just before he cupped the back of her neck and kissed her back. The world could have been burning in that moment and he wouldn’t have noticed or cared, every fiber of his being focused on the warm press of her lips, her trembling fingers, how easily she pressed into him. When she finally pulled back, her eyes opened slowly, fingers slipping down to rest on his chest.

“I…” Clearing her throat, he watched the flush spread from her cheeks to her ears, all the way to her neck. “I’m sorry, I just… Those pearls are my mother’s, and—”

“No need to apologize,” he told her, still a bit breathless. “If you hadn’t done it, I would have.”

“Oh.” She let out a tiny, embarrassed little laugh, glancing away from him. “That’s… oh.”

“Meet me back here tomorrow night.” Jason tucked her hair behind her ears again, tried to memorize each tiny little detail on her face. The way her eyes sparkled with a warm, bubbling affection as she looked up at him, light dusting of freckles standing out on her cheeks, the dimples that appeared when she smiled. “Any night you can. I’ll be here. I’ll give you back your mother’s pearls and… And we can find a way to free you.”

“I’ll do my best. I…” Delphi took a deep breath, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek before she pulled out of his arms, took a step back. “Thank you, Jason. One day, I’ll repay your kindness, I promise.”

“No need to pay it back, when it’s kindness easily given. All I ask is…” Jason paused for a moment, watched her as she retrieved her lantern and turned back to him. “All I ask is that you allow me to keep your companionship once you are free.”

“I would be honored to. It’s the least I can do for you.” Delphi gave another hesitant smile as the raven finally lit upon his shoulder, taking another step back towards the river. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

“Tomorrow night.”

Jason was the first to turn away, although he didn’t want to. As he trekked through the forest, back towards the road he had taken and his mare he’d left at the edge of the wilderness, the raven let out a nasty little chuckle.

“Who knew that terrible Prince Jason was secretly such a gross little romantic?” she teased, only laughing harder when he glared at her.

“Shut up,” he muttered. “I’m not.”

“Oh, you very much are. You think I haven’t watched you writing your little poems?”

Jason growled, but didn’t say anything further. At least his brothers hadn’t weaseled out his journal; if they did, he would never live it down. But it wasn’t his secret hobby that mattered at the moment. As he swung himself up into the saddle, spurred the mare on and sped back towards the castle before the sun rose and someone discovered that he had snuck out, he began to formulate a plan. He only hoped that his brothers could keep their mouths shut and help him before the king or Delphi’s stepmother found them out.

\---

Each night, Delphi waited until the house was silent before she opened the window and slipped outside. Each night, she climbed down the rickety trellis at the side of the house, movements careful and quiet, trying to avoid waking her sleeping family. Each night, she snuck out into the forest to meet Jason, her hope and joy making her less cautious and bolder as time passed. The prince kissed her as a greeting and as a farewell, held her hand carefully as they went over his plans, poured over the information he had found. Even as their plans began to fall into place, even as everything seemed to finally be going their way, erring in their favor, she should have known.

She should have known it would only be a matter of time before someone discovered her. Discovered them.

For three weeks she had been sneaking away at night, going over plans with Jason and dozing off with him, waking just before dawn and returning so that she could go about her morning duties. But she had gotten sloppy. Had grown less cautious, so wrapped up in her excitement that she’d forgotten to brush any evidence from her hair and clothes. Focused more on how close she finally was at finding freedom from her family, she came down to cook breakfast with a few petals still lingering in her hair, bound up with a ribbon she’d made out of the ruins of her gown. Jean-Paul had been the first to wake, his footsteps quiet as he approached the kitchen. Delphi had been humming, a soft lullaby that her mother had sung to her once, her heart full and the warmth of Jason’s skin still lingering at the tips of her fingers.

“You snuck out to the woods, didn’t you?” he asked, rasping voice surprising her.

Delphi startled, dropping the knife she had been using to cut mushrooms with and staring up at her stepbrother with wide eyes. He stood just behind her, arms folded tightly over his chest, blue eyes dark with anger once more. Instinctively, she reached up, fingers brushing over a few of the petals that had tangled in her hair, sending them slowly drifting down to the floor. Jean-Paul’s cold eyes tracked their movement before snapping back up to her. When he took a step forward, she pressed back against the counter, the soft, floating joy she’d felt only moments earlier turning into a cold, terrible fear. Her stepbrother had always been larger than her, seemed to tower over her as she cowered, flinched away from him as he strode forward, stopping only a breath away from her.

“I… I just went to get more of the mushrooms and berries that grow there,” she whispered, unable to look him in the eye, fingers trembling as they clutched at the front of her blouse. “You and stepmother seem to enjoy them, and I used the last of them just a few days ago—”

“Mother forbid you from going out there.” His voice was a low growl, sending a cold chill down her spine as he leaned forward. “Why have you been so disobedient? What are you up to?”

“What?” Delphi finally looked up at him, shrinking back as far as she could, the edge of the counter digging hard into her back. “I… I’m not up to anything…”

“For years, you’ve stolen my old textbooks to study secretly.” Jean-Paul’s eyes narrowed at her visible surprise, one of his hands bracing on the counter next to her. “I’m not stupid. I let it go because I had no need for them. But now you’ve tried to sneak out to a royal ball, continued to go to the forest even though you were expressly told not to… You’re planning on marrying some boy and taking everything from us, aren’t you?”

“No!” Staring up at him in horror, she flinched when the anger only darkened, his hand drifting too close to the knife behind her for comfort. “No, Jean-Paul, of course not.”

“After your father died, mother closed up his old shop. But someone broke into it recently.” Jean-Paul didn’t seem to find any comfort in her surprise, his expression growing darker by the second. “Looking for something. What were they looking for?”

It had to have been Jason. She had off-handedly mentioned the old store front, how long it had been closed after her father’s death. How he had kept a family portrait in his office… The prince must have found it, added it to the growing pile of evidence and information he’d been putting together for his scheme to get her the family home back. But he had also been so careful, or at least he’d told her that he had been. They had not accounted for the fact that, apparently, Jean-Paul watched her much more closely than she thought and was much smarter than she had given him credit for. The fear grew colder, more terrible, as she knew that she couldn’t hide the surge of emotions she was feeling.

“I don’t know,” she lied.

“Yes,” he said, voice low, “you do. But you won’t ruin this for us. Mother almost has an engagement secured for me. Once they finally agree, this house will be sold to fund the wedding. You’ll come with us and tend to the new house. Because the best that someone like you could ever ask for is to be a servant in a noble house.”

“What?” Delphi squirmed away from him, backed away towards the cold storage. Dread coiled low in her gut. Time hadn’t been an issue before, but now… “I didn’t know that you were… so close to being engaged. But you can’t just… you can’t just sell the house.”

“It belongs to Mother. She can do what she wishes with it, and with the store front. You can’t expect us to just… stay in this place for the rest of our lives. Not when we deserve better. Not when we’re owed better.” Jean-Paul’s eyes tracked her movements, although he didn’t advance on her again. “Mother said that you should be lucky that we haven’t thrown you out yet.”

Delphi felt a sudden surge of anger. How dare they say that being treated as lesser, as a tool instead of a person, was _lucky?_ If it weren’t for the home, for her attachment to her childhood memories and wanting to keep her father’s memory alive, then she would have gladly let them throw her out. She would have been happier on the streets than in a home made a prison. But she bit her tongue, tamped down on that sudden fury. Anger fixed nothing, lashing out did nothing but create more problems. As her mother had said, she had to be kind, always. Weather the cruelty, let it wash over her. It was only temporary. If she just warned Jason about the engagement, about the sudden time constraint that they had—

“Jean-Paul, have you caught our little eye sore being disobedient once again?” The Matron breezed into the kitchen, tying off her dress robe and glaring at Delphi.

“I have, mother,” he said, the anger in his eyes slowly replaced with a vicious little satisfaction. “It seems she snuck out to the forest this morning. And I suspect she’s been meeting with someone who was behind the break-in, too.”

“I see.” The Matron’s gaze grew colder, and Delphi knew with a terrible certainty that all of her carefully laid plans, all of her hope, was about to fall apart and go up in flames. “So many years I have taken care of you. So many years I have allowed you to live under my roof and—”

“It’s not your roof.” Delphi was horrified the second the words came out of her mouth. She knew that talking back would only make things worse, but… but there was only so much she could take. “This is my father’s house.”

“It _was_ your father’s house, you insolent little brat.” The Matron’s voice dropped low, heavy with anger. It made Delphi flinch, her fingers curling tighter into her blouse. “When he married me and when he died, he left all of his assets to me. Not to you. You aren’t even his real child. Just a little eyesore that his frigid wife took in so that they could keep up appearances. I will do what I wish with this house, with his business, and with you. The disobedience that you have shown recently is unacceptable, and now you dare speak back to me, too?”

Delphi had expected the sharp blow, but the savagery of it still took her by surprise. The back of her stepmother’s hand left a hot, stinging pain in her jaw and cheek, the salty taste of blood filling her mouth. She blinked, unable to hold back fresh tears as her shaking fingers brushed over her swelling skin. When she glanced up at the Matron, the woman delivered another sharp blow to her other cheek, sending her stumbling sideways. She barely held herself up against the counter, swallowing the blood that filled her mouth. She didn’t want to cry, not again. She didn’t want to show just how much these punishments _hurt._ Not just physically, but emotionally. How even though she tried so hard to stand strong, to weather it all, she was slowly beginning to crumble.

 _Be kind. Be strong. Have hope._ She tried to remind herself of those lessons her mother had imparted on her before her passing, tried to hold herself together. But it was hard, her breaths shaking as she wiped at her eyes.

“Make tea for us and finish breakfast. We will be in the parlor, discussing what to do with you.” The Matron shook out her hand, letting Jean-Paul hand her a wet rag so that she could dab at her knuckles with it. “These days of rebellion? They’re over. Prepare to say goodbye to this home, child. And pray that we don’t throw you out on the street where you belong.”

With one last cold glare in Delphi’s direction, her stepmother stormed out of the kitchen, footsteps retreating to the sitting room. Jean-Paul lingered for a moment, a strange expression twisting his features. Wordlessly, he took her wrist, ignoring her flinch as he pressed another wet cloth into her hand. After he left, she pressed it to her mouth, wiping the few lingering traces of blood away before she tossed it into the sink. The tiniest gesture of kindness, but one that she knew wasn’t done without some ulterior motive. Delphi had lost many things, but she didn’t want to lose some last lingering bit of pride, of dignity. Taking a deep breath, she ignored the stinging pain in her face, her split lip and bit tongue, and got to work. Even if it was for people who had abused and degraded her, treated her as less than, as a tool instead of a person… She could still take pride in her cooking. One last meal, before they punished her and took everything away.

\---

“This was the third night in a row that she didn’t show up.” Jason paced the library, Timothy and Richard watching as he walked in circles like some caged animal, hair wild and clothes unkempt. He’d barely slept the last couple nights, tossing and turning and fearing the worst. “Something’s wrong.”

“She’s never not shown up before?” Timothy asked, glancing up from the documents he’d been reading.

“No. She’s… she’s always been there. A little late, sometimes, but…” Jason stopped, turning to face his brothers. “I know something’s wrong. She would have shown up. I can feel it in my gut.”

“Another gut feeling.” The youngest prince sighed, setting aside the census documents and frowning up at Jason. “Is that the same gut feeling that had you running out of your ball? Sneaking out every night and pissing off B? Sneaking off and nearly getting yourself killed on a battlefield?”

“Tim.” Richard sighed, rubbing at his temples. There was a tension to his shoulders, his expression that the two other princes knew meant his temper was fraying. The oldest prince often pretended to be the most patient of them all, the kindest, but they all knew better. “That’s enough.”

Although he was stubborn, Timothy knew to fall silent. Not pleased about it, of course, but not wanting to fan the flames of Richard’s anger. Instead, he quietly picked up the documents once more, shuffling through them. Jason shifted his attention to his older brother, fidgeting and fighting the urge to begin pacing again. He didn’t want to be there. He wanted to be fixing whatever had happened to Delphi, _needed_ to know what had happened to her. Richard knew it, a calculating look in his eyes as Jason carded a hand through his hair and let out a frustrated groan.

“Jason.” Richard leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “You have enough to make your move now. If you think something’s wrong… I don’t think you can wait much longer.”

“But there’s still gaps. Delphi’s stepmother… she’s smart. She could find them, find some way to—”

“She won’t. You’re smarter than you give yourself credit for. And you know that I’ll back you. Tim will, too. B is going to be really pissed when he finds out what you’ve been doing, but you know how he is. Once you explain the situation to him, he’ll back you, too.” Richard smiled, although there was a dark edge to it. “We all know he can’t resist helping out kids in bad situations.”

Jason had to admit that the older prince had a point. Although King Bruce and Jason had their arguments, although the two of them didn’t always get along, at the end of the day, if what Jason was doing was righteous, the king would back him up. The monarch was stubborn, had a foul temper, but he knew right from wrong, even if he didn’t always agree with the methods. But Jason was doing everything right, had taken (mostly) careful steps. No one had to know about the break-in. And since he hadn’t stolen the painting so much as made sure it was returned to the rightful owner of it, while Bruce might frown on the methods, he would surely see the reasoning behind it. The real thief, the real criminal, was Baphomet. Lying on official documents, erasing Delphi from records, so that the inheritance was in her hands. The moment Delphi had turned eighteen, it should have all been given over to her. Not to mention that holding a girl hostage within her own house, abusing her emotionally and physically, was its own set of crimes. And Richard had been working behind the scenes to ensure that something else, worth more than the poor girl they’d taken advantage of, would fall into their laps and keep them away from Delphi.

“So, we go with the ‘searching for mystery girl from the ball’ plan?” he asked, shoving his hands into the pockets of his slacks.

“We go with the ‘searching for mystery girl from the ball’ plan,” Richard said. “Tim?”

“Here. Only one I’ve found, but it’s better than nothing.” Tim handed over a sheet of paper, a part of a census from years back. “Finding this girl in any kind of official documentation has been next to impossible. It’s a miracle I found even one record.”

“Well, miracles just seem to fall into place for this girl time and again, don’t they?” Richard carefully folded the paper, standing and tucking it into his waistcoat. “About time we drop by and put one last one at her feet, huh?”

“Dick—”

“I said I’d be with you, Jay. Not gonna back down now. If B gets mad, he gets mad at both of us.” No room for argument in his tone, he turned to Tim. “You keep him busy, bring his attention to… I don’t know, there was a big clash between a couple of the noble families at the edge of the kingdom, right?”

“The Marches and the Elliots,” he said. “Escalated to violence, one of the sons got hurt pretty bad. Guard had to break it up.”

“Bring it up with him again. Don’t want it escalating to a full out war within the city walls, do we?” With a crooked grin, he gestured back to Jason. “Go brush your hair, clean yourself up. We’ll want to look official when we bring hell down on these people.”

“Richard…” Jason took a deep breath, then straightened up and grinned back at him. “Wouldn’t want anyone else at my side.”

\---

Three days. Three days, Delphi had been locked up in her little attic room. No food, no water. The door bolted, a lock put on the outside of the window. Only three days, but it felt like an eternity. No comfort from Jason. No comfort from Sumiko, who she’d barely seen in the time that had passed since the night she’d revealed herself and cast her spell. Alone in her room, watching the storm roll in, Delphi wondered distantly if she was going to die. Locked away, forgotten, a quiet transition from a living ghost to a proper one. Barely a chance to live her life, on her own terms. Just as it had all been looking up… it was all taken away. One last thing, one last blow before she was left to rot. Starving, her tears having dried up a long time ago. She had been drifting in and out of sleep, reality and fantasy bleeding together for terrible, lingering moments. A false memory of warm lips against her own just before her eyes opened and she remembered, once more, that she was alone.

The cool glass felt good against her flushed cheek, the bruises that were still healing there. Cold fall was coming early, her blankets barely keeping her warm. Maybe it was the chill in the attic that would kill her before starvation or dehydration. Sniffling, she bundled them closer around herself, watched as the first drops of rain began to tap against the glass. As a child, she’d always loved the rain, loved watching storms roll in. They washed away the feelings of her omens, let her pretend, just for a moment, that she was normal. But now, without those omens, she had no clue what life had in store for her. Not anymore. And she was trying desperately not to let it terrify her.

At the end of the road, if this was truly where she met her final fate, she didn’t want to be alone. Uncertain. Scared. But if that was what destiny had in mind for her, she wasn’t certain it was something she could fight. In the end, she would have to make peace with it. Delphi closed her eyes, curled in tighter on herself.

Faintly, there was a knock on the front door. Delphi opened her eyes again, frowning as she glanced towards the sound. There were never any visitors to the estate. The Matron and Jean-Paul always went out, always pretended to be much richer, much more powerful than they actually were. Even with the faded veil of the rain hanging over her usual gut feeling, she knew that something was going to happen. On unsteady legs, she stood up, walked over and crouched by the door. Pressed her ear to it, hoping to catch even a snippet of conversation. Muffled voices were all that came to greet her. Her stepmother’s, first. Irritated and clipped, gradually raising in volume. She heard Jean-Paul’s, much louder than his usual dark, quiet tone. And then she heard his. Her prince’s deep voice, followed by one she didn’t recognize. But that didn’t matter.

Jason had come for her.

Leaning heavily against the door, she desperately tried to pick up snippets of the conversation. But it was too far away. That didn’t stop the hope from swelling in her heart, though. Their plans, such as they were, hadn’t been fully realized yet. There were still so many holes, so many gaps to fill… But he was risking it. For her. For _them._ Did he know that she was locked away in the attic? Did he know that she was still around? Or would the Matron use her silver tongue once more and convince him that she had disappeared? That she didn’t exist, that this was the wrong house?

Hope and fear filled her in equal measures as she listened to those distant voices. Waited, with baited breath, to see what exactly it was that fate would have in store for her. The voices got quieter and she began to slump. Were they leaving? Were they—

The Matron screamed. Delphi startled, falling back from the door and staring at it with wide eyes. There were light sounds on the stairs outside, leading to her room. A soft thump, followed by a louder one. She scrambled away, bundled her blankets tighter and tighter as there were running footsteps coming up. Was it Jean-Paul, come to drag her down, punish her again? She heard a loud crack, just before the door burst open. She stared up at a man she did not recognize with wide eyes. He was handsome, his deep blue eyes landing on her as she pressed back against the dresser. His expression, which had been frantic, settled into a softer one. When he smiled, it was comforting, gentle.

“You must be Delphi,” he said. “It’s good to finally meet you.”

When she didn’t move, stayed curled away from him, he didn’t storm in and grab her. Instead, he crouched, rested his elbows on his knees and kept a safe distance from her. From behind him, a white fox emerged. Sumiko. Coming through for her one more time, running over and throwing herself into Delphi’s arms. The girl, somehow, managed to find a fresh well of tears, burying her face in soft, warm fur. Sniffling, she let the fox snuggle closer to her, chittering. When she looked up, wiped tears from her cheeks, she saw the raven perched on the man’s shoulder. Fate and strange magic saving her, one last time.

“Who are you?” she asked, wincing at the rasping sound of her voice.

“My name is Richard. I’m Jason’s brother.” He smiled, dimples flashing as he tilted his head. “You really had him worried.”

“I—”

“You’re going to apologize,” he interrupted. “You don’t need to. None of this is your fault. But we’re here to take you away. At least temporarily, while this home becomes yours again.”

“I… I don’t understand.” Delphi held Sumiko closer to her, let her nuzzle into her shoulder. “How…?”

“Jason’s got a strange luck on his side,” the prince told her, his eyes drifting briefly towards the fox. “As do you. But he also has two brilliant minds as brothers to call upon. Come on.”

Richard held out his hand to her, standing up. She hesitated for a moment, glancing at Sumiko. Warm blue eyes met her own, a fluffy tail curling around her wrist. _It’s okay,_ the fox’s eyes seemed to say. _You’re safe now._ Taking a deep breath, she slowly stood, let the prince wrap an arm around her to help her down the stairs. When she stumbled, he guided her to lean against him, quietly supporting her and flashing another comforting smile at her when she glanced up at him. Once they were at the bottom of the stairs, the raven flew from his shoulder and into the sitting room.

Jason stood in the middle of it, papers and documents spread out on the table in front of the sofa, where the Matron and Jean-Paul sat, looking pale. A bright fury lit his eyes, furrowed his brow as he stared them down. With his hair slicked back and a dark, tailored suit on, he looked every inch the prince that he was, radiating power. The raven settled to perch on his shoulder, drawing his attention. The anger melted for a moment when he saw her, turning into relief for a split second until the anger returned. But darker, this time, tenfold what it had been before. Sumiko purred as she settled in Delphi’s arms, as Richard guided her to stand between him and Jason.

“I thought you said there was no young woman living here,” Jason growled.

“I… It…” The Matron’s eyes were glued to Delphi, the fox in her arms, the shock on her face an expression that the girl had never seen before. “How dare you—”

“Let me just get right to the point, Lady Baphomet.” Jason stood straighter, tipped his chin up and glared down at her. “You lied, multiple times, on official documentation about your late husband and the family that survived him. You said that it was only you and your son, lied on each census, and stole an inheritance that was not yours. You forced your stepdaughter into servitude and kept her hostage, locked her away and mistreated her. A young woman with more right to the riches you’ve been wasting than you. So right now, we’re looking at charges of forgery, theft, grand larceny, kidnapping, abuse… Anything I forget, Prince Richard?”

“Impersonation of noble status,” Prince Richard said, false cheer in his voice. “And, considering the state that your stepdaughter is in, I believe that we can add much more serious counts of neglect and abuse.”

“Of course.” When Jason smiled, it was more of a baring of teeth, a snarl that promised violence and retribution. “Now, considering all of the proof we have laid out before you here, including a recently acquired family portrait clearly illustrating that your late husband was Delphi’s father, and his will indicating that all of his assets would be passed on to his kin, you would not stand a chance. Either of you. At best, you will be stripped of all your assets and banished from this kingdom, sent away to a foreign land with no money to your name and no possessions but the clothes on your back. At worst, you will be jailed for life.”

“You can’t—”

“I can,” Jason said, interrupting the Matron, “and I will. I’m sure you are aware of my reputation for putting even the highest noble families here _in their place._ My father will take one look at what you’ve done to your stepdaughter and will give his tacit approval to whatever punishment I see fit as a prince of this kingdom.”

“You’re bluffing,” Jean-Paul said, cold eyes drifting over to you.

“He’ll also have my full support and backing, along with Prince Timothy’s,” Richard said, his smile never wavering. Despite the charm to it, Delphi found it far more frightening than Jason’s open hostility. “And I, personally, will advocate for the strictest punishment.”

“We’re not bluffing.” Jason rested a hand on the sword at his hip, another quiet threat. “So, you have two options. The hard way, or the easy way. The hard way, we take your stepdaughter and place her in warm, safe lodging and ensure she gets the care and respect she deserves. She stays there while we forcibly strip you of your assets, bring criminal charges against you, and ensure that your reputations are thoroughly ruined before we run you out. If you resist at any point, I will cut you down without batting an eye.”

“The easy way, I think, is what we would all prefer.” Coaxing Delphi to lean against Jason instead, Richard stepped forward. Still with that charming smile that didn’t reach his eyes, arms spread. “I understand that Jean-Paul here has been in talks of marriage. I have arranged for him to be engaged with the twelfth daughter of a duke, one that he’s desperate to get rid of like all his other daughters. She comes with a nice dowry, is easy on the eyes. And she’ll be happy to get away from her father’s home. If you agree, you will pay back what you owe to Delphi and then use the rest of the dowry to move to the very edges of the kingdom and as far away from the crown city as you can. You will remain there, and you will never set foot within this city again. All of the assets of Delphi’s late father will be relinquished to her, including this house, and you will move within the week to the house of the duke until the marriage is finalized.”

The Matron’s eyes flared with anger as she stood, glaring at the older prince. Delphi pressed into Jason’s side, found some small degree of comfort as he curled his arm tighter around her. Sumiko watched the proceedings with narrowed eyes, ears pressed flat back against her skull. The raven also watched with cold, blood red eyes, feathers ruffling.

“How dare you,” the Matron snarled, “come into my home and make demands of me? When my late husband passed, it was my right as his widow to take possession of all of his assets, including his daughter. She isn’t even a blood relative of his, and has less claim to what he left behind than I do. Under my own roof, I have the right to discipline my children and my servants as I see fit. If you try to take it away from me—”

“Is that a threat?” Richard asked. The friendly tone had vanished, his words cold and sharp. “Are you threatening the princes of this kingdom? Because that would probably be the stupidest possible thing for you to do. Especially after we’ve so generously offered you a way out of the situation you put yourself in. A good marriage for your son, a better home to live in. Although, if you prefer that we drag you out and put you on trial—”

“How big is the dowry?” Jean-Paul stood, ignoring the sharp glare he got from his mother.

“Considering what was originally laid out in your late stepfather’s assets, twice as much as what you had when he passed away.” Richard’s voice was still cold as he gathered up the documents, tucked them away in his coat. “Plus a bit of land in the kingdom and a title, although it’s low.”

Jean-Paul and the Matron exchanged a look, the woman gritting her teeth and curling her hands into fists. After a tense moment, the young man turned back to the prince. He didn’t look particularly happy, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“We’ll take the offer.” Blue eyes lingered on Delphi for a moment, that dark look returning to them as her stepbrother watched her lean into Jason, the prince’s arm tight around her waist and his lips pressing a gentle kiss against the top of her head. “I know when I’ve lost a fight.”

“Lady Baphomet?” Richard turned to the woman, raising an eyebrow.

“… I knew that this wretched child would find some way to take everything from us.” Each word was sharp, her furious gaze zeroed in on Delphi. “From the moment I saw her, I knew that she was unseemly. I should have sent her away the moment her father died. Nothing but bad luck and curses follow her. This little shack has become beneath me, anyways. Let her rot away here. You will both grow as tired of her as I have, the little harlot.”

Jason took a deep breath, opened his mouth to speak. But Delphi silenced him, placing a hand on his chest. With Sumiko curled around her shoulders, her tail a warm scarf, banishing the cold, she stepped forward. There were so many things she could say. Cutting words, angry words, things to hurt the woman just as much as she had been hurt. But she swallowed them all, and reminded herself of what her mother had taught her: _Be Kind. Always._

“I feel sorry for you,” she finally said, staring up at her stepmother. “I am sorry that the life you’ve lived has led you to feel so miserable, so unhappy. I’m sorry that you’ve come to a point where you cut others down to make yourself feel better. I pity you, stepmother. And I hope that you find some way to be happy in your life.”

The Matron stared at her, struck speechless. Jean-Paul was silent at her side, a quiet look of shame in his eyes as Delphi turned away. Sumiko leapt down from her shoulders, disappearing through the open door. Jason shrugged off his coat, tossed aside the blankets and draped it over her shoulders instead, still warm from his body. Richard gave the Matron and Jean-Paul a short nod before turning away as well. Although she received no reply from her stepmother, Delphi was content with it. There was nothing more to say.

And as she let Jason lead her out of the house, help her up onto his mare and rode into the city with his brother close behind him, she felt a new blossoming of warmth in her heart. Because the next time she returned the house would, finally, be her own once more.

\---

Humming to herself, Delphi placed the last book away, her most recent acquisition and one she hoped would find a good home among the people of Gotham. In the months since she had returned to her family home, since it had been placed rightfully back into her care and her stepmother and stepbrother had quietly disappeared, she had worked with what remained of her inheritance to change her late father’s store into a bookshop. One that specialized in rare texts, first editions, translations, anything that was unique and special in their own right. A place that her mother would have loved, and one that Jason loved as well. A few of the books she’d purchased had immediately been added to his collection, books of poetry and philosophy that he’d yet to find. Although she still had yet to find a completely stable customer base, the fact that the royal family were her first customers had helped bring in a few more of the nobles of the city. She was confident that more would come, that she would be able to turn the skeleton of what her father had built into something he would be proud of.

The raven had disappeared shortly after she’d returned to her family home, although Jason had never fully explained what it was or why it had come to her rescue. She wasn’t entirely certain that he knew why, either. Sumiko had disappeared as well, had not come to the wisteria tree the few times that Delphi had been able to go to it. Perhaps they had done their part, had left to quietly continue their own stories while she took her first shaking steps towards building a new life for herself. One free of fear, cruelty, and a cold fist clamped around the back of her neck, keeping her down. She was her own woman now, answering to no one but herself. Her whole life stretched ahead of her, and each morning, she woke in the bed that had been her mother’s with a lightness in her heart and a good omen at the tip of her tongue. Although she missed her fox spirit, still prayed some nights that she would come to visit, she knew that when the time was right, she would see her once more.

Free of whatever had kept her bound to the form of a fox, just as Delphi had been freed.

The bell at the front door chimed and Delphi looked up, smiling as Jason brushed back his hood. His bluff had worked out, in the end, and he’d been able to convince his father to let him leave the castle once the sun set, coming back after it rose once more. He answered her with a soft smile of his own, crossing the space between them quickly and taking her face in his hands. She gladly stretched up to kiss him, briefly and sweetly, before pulling back.

“I missed you,” she murmured.

“I’ve only been gone since this morning,” he whispered back, pressing a kiss to her temple, her cheek, the tip of her nose.

“And yet, I still missed you.” Delphi laid her hand on his chest, the ring on her finger glinting in the light. “How are your brothers?”

“They’re well. Still as infuriating as ever. But Tim wanted me to thank you for getting him that book on chemistry. He’s had his nose stuck in it since he got it.” Jason chuckled, placing his hand over hers. “Ready to head home?”

“Of course.” Pulling away to retrieve her coat and purse, she left the shop with him, locked up and turned off the lights.

Lacing her fingers with his, Delphi paused for a moment outside the shop. Out of the corner of her eye, she could have sworn she’d seen a flash of white, heard a tittering laugh. But when she turned, there was no one there. Just a dark store front, an empty alley. Jason glanced down at her, quirking an eyebrow.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

“No.” She smiled, looking up at him and giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “Just thought I saw an old friend.”

Walking side by side back to her family home with her betrothed, Delphi glanced up at the full moon above her and smiled. Although she still had much life to live, more obstacles ahead of her, she knew that she had, finally, gotten her happy ending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sumiko belongs to [mari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bringmetea)
> 
> you can tell where i started rushing on this one to get it done lol. but i hope y'all have enjoyed, anyways. 
> 
> [support me on ko-fi](https://ko-fi.com/difficultheart)


	6. Morning Glory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> early mornings and afternoons across Gotham
> 
> (set post-Red Sun)

The clock on Liliya Pavlovna Koshka’s phone informed her in blaring letters that it was 5 am, alarm screaming for her to wake up. Teeth bared in a snarl, she slapped blindly at the bedside table until she finally grabbed the damned thing and shut off the alarm. Late summer heat and Dick Grayson’s body wrapped around hers had coated her in a thin layer of sweat, pajamas sticking to her skin. Although it was something of a miracle that she hadn’t been woken earlier by someone needing something from her, she had never been much of a morning person, disposition stormy as she squirmed in her fiance’s grip. Only after she (as delicately as she could) jammed her elbow into his gut did Dick wake up, grip tightening for a moment as he grumbled about giving him another hour. 

“We are going to be late,” she rasped, trying and failing to pry his arms off. 

“The world won’t end if we’re a little late,” he mumbled back, pressing his face into the side of her neck. “C’mon, please?”

Heaving a sigh, she ran her hands over her face. There were two options that she had to get him up and moving. Both involved bribery. Given how overheated and exhausted she already felt, she opted for the food route, instead of the sex route. 

“If you get up, I’ll make you chocolate chip pancakes,” she said, smirking when she felt him loosen his grip. 

“… Extra chocolate chips?” he asked, finally releasing her and letting her slide out of bed.

She turned, eyes scanning over his sleep mussed hair, bleary expression, and sleepy smile. Smiling back, she leaned down to press a quick kiss to his temple. 

“Extra chocolate chips, since you’re being a good boy,” she purred. 

That had him out of bed and vaulting over to the closet, all signs of exhaustion promptly vanishing. Pulling out the suit that she’d set out for him the night before, he glanced back at her, eyes bright even in the dim shadows of the room. 

“Do you want to shower first?” he asked. 

“No, go ahead, sunshine. I’ll get the coffee started and the batter mixed up. Can I trust you to get the pancakes cooked for me? Some bacon, too?” Koshka yawned, her own outfit already hanging up on the door of the master bath. 

“Of course. I’ll leave some of the bacon raw for you.” Dick stepped forward, placing a hand low on her hip and pressing a lingering kiss to her lips. “Won’t take too long.”

“Thanks,” she whispered back, lips curling up into a sleepy smile as he pressed one more kiss to her cheek and moved past her towards the bathroom. 

While he showered, his slightly off-key singing echoing down the hall to the kitchen, Koshka got a pot of coffee started, mixed together batter with extra chocolate chips, and scrolled through her schedule for the day. Lunch with Kurokawa and some of her people to finalize shipment for new testing equipment for a few of the Wolf clinics, a board meeting going over quarterly profits and goals for the next quarter, a meeting with one of Damian’s teachers, and more wedding planning. She sighed, locking her phone and rubbing at her eyes. Sitting through cheery women spreading out photos for her to look through, parading different floral arrangements, and talking about what the ideal cake flavor would be was maddening. The sooner the wedding was over with, the better. If she’d had her way, they simply would have gone to the courthouse, gotten their marriage license, and had a small reception for friends and family and called it good. But Dick wanted to have a proper ceremony, wanted a rehearsal dinner and a scenic location and a large reception and bridesmaids and groomsmen and catering. It meant something to him, and she knew that even if it was more work than she had wanted, she would sit through every maddening session, taste fifteen different kinds of cake, and stuff herself into tulle nightmares if it meant making him happy. 

“What’s on the schedule for today?” Dick asked, shirt half buttoned and tie hanging around his neck as he stepped into the kitchen. His hair was still damp as he poured himself a cup of coffee and grinned. “Let me guess. You look especially tired, so it must be another catering session.”

“Bingo.” She set her phone down on the counter, stepped forward to finish buttoning his shirt, deftly tying his tie. “It’s at 4:30, and I took some time off for it, so please try not to be late.”

“I won’t, I swear. I’ll do all the leg work today.” Dick gently ushered her out of the kitchen. “Now go get ready. I’ll have the food all ready for you when you’re done.”

“What would I do without you?” she sighed, pausing half way down the hall and turning to yell back at him. “Any progress with Tim?”

“Not yet,” he called back over the soft sizzling sound of cooking bacon. “He’s digging his heels in more.”

“I’ll talk to Areum.” 

Shaking her head, Koshka closed the door to the bathroom and stripped, stepping into the shower. Although she had a long day ahead of her, negotiations to make at work and outside of it, she reminded herself that it would all be worth it. In a little under a month, she’d have a new name, a new ring on her finger, place a matching one on Dick’s finger. For that happy ending, for a future where she woke up every morning to Dick’s arms around her and the chance of a family of her own, she’d go through it all a thousand times over. 

\---

Areum Kim woke up to an empty spot in the bed next to her and heaved a sigh. Dragging herself out from under the sheets, she pulled on a robe before shuffling down the hall. As she suspected, Tim Drake sat in front of his computer, bags under his eyes and a cold mug of coffee sitting in front of him. Since Jason’s return, he’d thrown himself harder into his work, barely slept at all. And when she tried to get him to talk about it, tried to get him to open up, he only shut her out, clammed up and holed up in his office. It was only getting worse, and she was afraid that he was going to collapse one night and get himself seriously injured or killed. 

Stepping up behind his chair, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, nuzzled against his neck. A bit of tension bled out of his muscles and she accepted the small win, smiling when he lifted a hand to rest over her own. 

“Did you sleep at all?” she whispered into his skin. 

“Had to finish up some work on a case. Cass said she thought she caught wind of a suspicious shipment coming in from Hong Kong and I need to make sure it’s not—”

“Let Hyunjin look into it,” she interrupted, standing up and spinning his chair around so that he was facing her. “Tim, you know I love you, but you look like shit.”

“Thanks,” he grunted, running a hand over his jaw, the stubble shadowing it. “Love you, too.”

Areum frowned, kneeling and resting her cheek against his knee. Tim couldn’t quite look her in the eye, although he let her take his hand, brush a light kiss over his knuckles. 

“I’m worried about you,” she whispered. Waited until he finally glanced at her before she pressed a kiss to the inside of his wrist, took some small comfort in the gentle rhythm of his pulse against her lips. Alive, but weary. Closed off. “Dick and Koshka are, too. And Bruce. You can’t keep doing this to yourself.”

“I can’t let it happen again,” Tim said, brow furrowed. “Even with the clinics, the medication… I can’t—”

“It’s not going to happen again. You know that I appreciate how hard you work on this, how closely you monitor all this movement to protect me, to protect my family. But you can let other people help.” Areum let a hand rest on his thigh, her voice soft. “Stop running.”

“I’m not—”

“You know how much the wedding means to Dick.” She interrupted him, frowning. “I know that you still have your issues with Jason. But don’t hurt the rest of your family because of it. This wedding is only going to happen once. And if you keep refusing to be part of it, I… Tim, it’s really ugly of you.”

“I’m not talking about this,” he ground out, looking away from her. 

“You can’t keep shutting me out.” Areum tried to swallow the growl that rose in her chest, stood up. “It’s not fair to me. And it’s not fair to you, either. You’re eventually going to have to face this, Tim. But it’s up to you whether you do it alone or with people at your side.”

Turning away, Areum stormed out of the room. When Jason had come back, she’d known that it would be difficult. That Tim would be difficult. But she hadn’t expected it to drag on for as long as it had, or for him to dig in his heels so far that there was collateral damage. She loved him, god did she love him, but it was getting to a breaking point. She was getting tired of being the middle man, watching Tim tear himself apart as silent punishment because he knew that what he was doing was wrong, but refused to budge. With her last semester of law school starting, choices needing to be made about what path she was going to take in the future, it was an issue she didn’t need to be added to the pile. 

Leaning against the counter, coffee brewing, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. There had to be some way to break through. Kon had tried, Dick had tried, hell even _Bruce_ had tried. But it only seemed to make him dig his heels in even further. As much as she loved Tim, as much as she wanted him in her life, as desperately as she wanted to build a life with him, have a family with him, she was beginning to wonder if—

“I’m sorry.” 

Areum kept her eyes closed as Tim wrapped his arms around her, rested his cheek against the top of her head. The scent of him still soothed her, felt so achingly like home that the route her thoughts had been going hurt. Taking a deep breath, she rested a hand over his arm. 

“If you’re really sorry,” she told him, voice low, “talk to Dick. Give just a little. Do this for him.”

“I’ll…” He trailed off, heaving a sigh. Her heart dropped, eyes opening and jaw clenching. “I’ll talk to him.”

“Good.” Still wary, she turned in his arms, took his face in her hands. “It’s only a few hours. You don’t even have to talk to Jason. But I think you should anyways. It’s been almost two years. You’ve both changed. And we both know that what happened to me wasn’t really his fault.”

Tim was quiet for a moment, dark eyes scanning her face. She let herself be patient, even though she knew that she had every right to yell and scream and throw a fit. But triggering a fit of his own wouldn’t help anyone. Finally, he sighed, leaning into her touch and turning his head to kiss her palm. 

“Only because you asked nicely instead of playing dirty,” he mumbled, a spark in his eyes.

Areum let out a soft laugh, lips curving up into a wicked grin as he kissed his way up her arm. 

“I was considering it. But thank you, oppa,” she purred, giggling again when she saw the way his eyes darkened further, his lips pausing at the inside of her elbow, pressed over one of the camellias inked into her skin. “Now go get some sleep. I’ll call into work for you. I need to have my coffee and get ready for class.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled, dipping his head to press a kiss to the corner of her lips. “For everything.”

“Just call Dick. And fix this, okay?” She kissed him back before pulling away, taking down one of his travel mugs. “Sorting out this mess you made is the best way to apologize to all of us.”

“I know.” Tim sighed again. “I’ll just… I’ll try.”

“And if you try hard enough, you’ll succeed.” Areum finished filling the mug, turned back to him. “I’ll be in classes until after noon, and then I have to go in to do some work for Kurokawa. Keep me in the loop, okay?”

“Okay.” Tim caught her before she could walk back down the hall to get dressed, fingers gripping her wrist loosely. “I love you, Areum.”

“I love you, too, you dumb asshole.” Areum’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, but she still moved to kiss him one last time. “Now go get some sleep.”

Feeling his gaze heavy on her back, Areum walked down the hall to the bedroom and told herself that it was all going to work out. That this would be the time he finally followed through. 

It had to be. Because she didn’t want to consider the alternative.

\---

It was after noon when Delphi heard a soft groan from her bedroom, a few muffled grunts and the creak of bed springs. Looking up from her laptop, she smiled when Jason Todd shuffled into the kitchen. His hair was a wild mess, one eye still swollen shut and a nasty cut on his lip. Sweatpants slung low on his hips, he stretched before looking over at her and yawning, wincing when it pulled at his split lip. 

“Morning,” he grumbled, voice deep and gravelly from sleep. 

_Sleep well?_ Delphi signed, closing the computer so that she could focus her attention on him. 

“Like the dead.” Jason yawned again, shuffling over to the new coffee pot. “Those painkillers really knocked me on my ass.”

Getting up, she pushed him away, motioning for him to sit down on the couch. He’d crawled in through the fire escape at 3 am, bruised and bleeding and beaten to hell. Delphi had taped up two of his fingers, stitched up gashes on his shoulder and chest, iced his bruised ribs and cleaned up his face. All things she was used to, of course, but she didn’t want him to make any of his injuries worse. Especially not the two fingers on his left hand, which she suspected might be broken. Pouring a cup of coffee for him and grabbing one of the muffins she’d made that morning, she sat down on the couch next to him. When he started to reach for the mug with his left hand, she jerked it away, raising an eyebrow. With a soft snort and a roll of his eyes, he took it with his right hand instead. 

“I’m fine, sweetheart,” he said, leaning over to gingerly kiss her forehead. “Had worse.”

_You should still be careful,_ she signed, frowning as he sipped at his coffee. _I think those fingers are broken._

“Nah, just a little fucked up. Give it a couple days and they’ll be good as new.” When she still didn’t look convinced, Jason grinned and took a huge bite out of the muffin, talking through a mouthful of food. “I promise, I’m good.”

_At least let Mama look at them,_ Delphi signed. Although she knew it wasn’t bad, knew it could have been worse, she couldn’t shake her concern. 

“If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll go see Sumiko. But she’s gonna say the same thing.” Jason finished off the muffin, taking another big sip of coffee. “Seriously. I’m fine. This’ll all heal up in no time.”

It would, of course. But there would be new bruises and scrapes, new gashes and broken bones to take their place. Delphi had made peace with the fact that Jason’s life was violent. What he did was important, and she would never ask him to stop. It gave his life meaning, and she’d rather tear out her own heart than ever take that away from him. But it didn’t mean that she felt any less terrible when he dragged himself in through the window, always with the same apologetic smile when she took off his helmet (or his mask, for the especially bad nights when his helmet was broken) and retrieved the first aid kit. 

Jason reached out and tapped the tip of her nose, drawing her out of her head. 

“I interrupted your work, didn’t I?” he asked, setting down the half empty mug. 

_Just finished up a reading,_ she signed. _I don’t have another appointment for a couple of hours._

To keep herself busy when Lucifer wasn’t coming over for his own readings, she signed up for an online psychic service. With the chat function, she was able to still do readings for people without having to worry about whether they knew sign language or not. The service itself was… well, it wasn’t exactly full of people who were genuine psychics, but Delphi still did her best to deliver accurate readings, consulting her tarot deck, pictures of tea leaves, and even snap shots of palms that were sent to her. It was strange, an impersonal barrier in place that she wasn’t sure how she felt about. But it paid fairly well, and she’d become somewhat popular over the month she’d been working. 

“Delicious as that muffin was, I need a bigger lunch. You haven’t eaten since this morning, have you?” he asked. 

Her guilty look was all the answer he needed. Sighing, he stood up, grunting as he worked out a kink in his shoulder. He picked up his coffee, running his other hand through his messy hair and smiling at her. One of his gentle smiles, soft and sweet, just for her. Although it still hurt to see so many bruises on his bare torso, she managed to smile back. 

“Help me cook lunch?” he asked, holding out his bandaged hand. “Pretty sure you still have some of that ground beef and a few tomatoes left. Spaghetti and meatballs sound good?”

Comfort food, something simple to make, but still delicious. Nodding, she was careful not to jostle his taped-up fingers as she took his hand and stood. When he pulled her suddenly to his chest, bent to kiss her properly, she sighed against his lips. It likely hurt, the pressure against the cut on his lip. But if it did, he didn’t show it, his thumb brushing over her cheek when he pulled back. 

“Thanks,” he whispered, gaze soft as she leaned into the touch. “For putting up with my shit.”

_Someone has to be around to patch you up,_ she signed back. _Your shit is my shit now._

“Who taught you how to sign that?” he asked, laughing as she took his hand and pulled him into the kitchen. 

Delphi only smiled. While he went to pull on a shirt, she pulled out the meat and tomatoes, the fresh herbs he always kept stocked for her, the last few pieces of a loaf of bread. Glancing out the window, she watched the traffic roll by, watched a few storm clouds roll in and render the bright day dim and gray. And, as she had for so many days before, she closed her eyes and let herself bask in her hard-won peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was trying to get past my block on the next fairytale au and working on my new marvel fic when nick robles uploaded art of jason in the morning and i...... was inspired. you can see it [here](https://twitter.com/ArtofNickRobles/status/1304161529374400514) (pls follow him, his art is amazing and his jason is like ripped directly from my brain)
> 
> (and don't worry, tim gets over being so stubborn. eventually.)
> 
> sumiko kurokawa belongs to [the lovely mari!](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bringmetea)
> 
> [support me on ko-fi!](https://ko-fi.com/difficultheart)


	7. Death and I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the god of blood and rebirth finds an ally in an old friend-- death herself
> 
> (an AU based on the video game Hades starring Jason and Delphi)

The god of blood and rebirth braced his hands on his knees, sword dropped on the swaying field next to him as he tried to catch his breath. He had lost count of how many times he’d tried to escape, which attempt this was. But it was the farthest he’d ever gone, and even if he was injured and exhausted and felt ready to keel over, he wasn’t about to give up. Not yet. Not when he was so close. Spectral weapons scattered the fields, flickering in the glowing light of Elysium. Remnants of the shades he had battled, who would doubtless be back again once he reached the end of this escape attempt. He wanted to succeed this time, wanted to feel secure in knowing that he would, finally, reach the surface. But realistically, he knew he wouldn’t. Not without some small miracle.

“Jason.” A familiar voice, one that made him stand straight.

When he turned, she was there. Always so quiet, one of the few who could always sneak up on him and take him by surprise. Wearing her dark robes, as always, so much of her silver hair hidden under her hood. Her left eye glowed red, lips turned down into a frown and one hand braced on the hilt of the short sword at her hip. Peaceful death and shadows incarnate, the child of an ancient being of darkness and the sister of dreams and sleep itself. It was only a matter of time before she found out.

“Hey, Delphi,” he said, still a bit breathless, hands braced against the small of his back. “Didn’t know you were back already.”

She stepped closer to him, bare feet barely even touching the verdant grass as she searched his expression. Jason tried to remain casual, to grin as if he didn’t know that he’d made a mistake.

“You really were going to leave without saying anything to me,” she said, voice soft.

“I...” Jason cleared his throat, feeling skewered beneath her gaze. She always seemed to see right through him, no matter how desperately he tried to hide things from her. Her mother or her sibling had told her, of course. “I had you in my thoughts as I made my attempts. I knew that you would understand. But you’d been gone so long already, and I couldn’t wait any longer. My parents, my real parents, are somewhere up there and… and I just couldn’t take it any longer. You know how Bruce is.”

“I’m very aware of how he is.” Delphi let out a soft sigh, gaze dropping and hands clasping loosely behind her back. Jason felt himself relax just a fraction, knowing that it wouldn’t come down to a fight. “Have you really come this far on your own?”

“I’ve had a little help,” he admitted, finally catching his breath and retrieving his sword. “Don’t wanna get into how many times I’ve failed up to this point. Bit embarrassing, if we’re being honest here.”

She let out a soft hum, looking over the field, a breeze ruffling her robes. The god watched her closely as she let her fingertips brush over one of the spectral weapons, expression as dark as ever. How long had it been since he’d seen her laugh or smile? Something had been going on up on the surface, had her leaving the House for longer periods of time and coming back looking grimmer and grimmer. For a being of death, she seemed to take the passing of mortals poorly, especially in such large droves. Always too kind for her own good, too soft for the life she’d been born into.

“If you’d waited just a little while longer, you know that you would’ve had my help.” She turned to look at him, hand resting on a long bow.

“I couldn’t ask that of you,” he said, hesitating for a moment before he stepped closer to her.

“You don’t need to. I’m always on your side, Jay.” Delphi gave him a small, sad smile. “Always have been and always will be.”

“Bruce will be pissed. Can you really go against him like that?” Another step closer, close enough that he could reach out and touch her. His fingers twitched, the urge to brush back her hood almost overwhelming. But, as he had many times before, he held back. “You’ll still have to go back to the House, don’t wanna get you in too much trouble.”

“You’ve already gotten me in trouble before.” This time her smile grew, just a little. Almost reached her eyes, even if they were obscured slightly by her hood. “Nanashi will keep him in check, like she always does.”

They fell silent for a moment, simply watching one another. Jason had to keep moving, had to keep fighting until the end. But there was an odd peace, standing in a battleground that was now silent, death standing before him with a fondness in her gaze. Likely nothing more than a fondness for a childhood friend, someone she’d grown up with, caused trouble with, studied with; his own hopes that perhaps it was a little bit more were foolish and his own escape only rendered it all pointless. Although she would come to the surface to collect mortal souls and deliver them to the underworld, if the Olympians kept their promise and let him into their realm…

“Do you think you’ll make it this time?” she asked, reaching up and brushing back her hood.

“While I’d love to summon my usual self confidence and say that I absolutely will…” Jason sighed, hand resting on the hilt of his sword. “Probably not. This is the farthest I’ve gotten, but Bruce’s shades have really been beating the shit out of me this time around. I’ll learn from it, do better next time around.”

“You do look rough,” Delphi admitted, eyes narrowing as she looked him over. Just to examine his wounds, the tears in his clothing, he was sure. But it still made something warm bloom in his chest, ears flushing. “Here.”

Reaching into the folds of her robes, she pulled out a vial of healing waters, pressed it into his hand.

“I’m not sure how much help that will be, but perhaps it’ll help get you through a few more fights.” Her fingers lingered for a moment too long before she pulled away, clearing her throat and looking away from him. “I should get back to the House, report to the Master before he gets suspicious.”

“Thanks, Delphi.” Jason smiled, downing the vial and tucking the empty container away. It wasn’t much, but it healed some of his aches and pains, eased some of his exhaustion. “I’ll see you back there soon.”

“Not too soon, I hope.” She sighed, pulling her hood back up and taking a step back. “Good luck, Jason. Next time around, I’ll do what I can to help.”

With that, the shadows swallowed her, the darkness slowly fading away until there was nothing but the eerie, artificial light that filled Elysium. Taking a deep breath, Jason turned to the gates that lead to the next section of Elysium. The Underworld was constantly shifting, constantly changing in an attempt to keep him from escaping. But even if this attempt wasn’t the one that finally freed him, he could at least give it his best shot.

After all, he couldn’t let Delphi’s gift go to waste.

\---

“Mother’s been helping you with your escape attempts, hasn’t she?”

Jason looked up from polishing his sword, the surface gleaming even in the dim lamp light. Delphi had appeared silently from the shadows, hood brushed back and long hair braided over one shoulder. She didn’t have her sword, either. Off duty, then. At least for the time being. Setting aside the whet stone and sword, he stood from where he’d sat in the middle of his bed chambers.

“That obvious, huh?” he asked, grinning and hooking his thumbs in his belt. “She got in contact with the Olympians, helped procure weapons and has been giving me tools to help me escape. She said she’d be glad to be rid of me, one less brat to worry about.”

Delphi sighed, arms folded over her chest as she stepped over to his desk, looked at the mess of parchment and weaponry there, empty ambrosia bottles and correspondence to Diana and Clark. Her expression was pinched, eyes heavy with exhaustion and something else. How many attempts he’d made since he last saw her, he wasn’t sure. But even when he had sought Delphi out when he returned to the House, she’d been busy with some other task. Perhaps punishment for the small amount of help she’d given him earlier, or simply duties that needed to be done. It was hard to tell with Bruce, his face always either impassive or filled with cold fury when Jason returned and his adoptive father tried to get him to give up. Delphi had always been afraid of the lord of the Underworld, and Jason did not take her disobedience to offer aid lightly.

“That’s why she and Bruce have been at one another’s throats lately, then.” Shaking her head, she looked back up at him, left eye dimly glowing red. “You’ll be heading back out to try again soon, I’m assuming.”

“Yep.” Jason stretched his arms above his head, working out a few kinks in his back before retrieving his sword and sheathing it. “No rest for the wicked, and sitting idly by only wastes time that could be better used making progress.”

“Well, I have one more thing that may aid you.” Delphi reached into her robes once more, stepping close to him and taking one of his hands. “It’s not much. But it’s what I can offer at the moment.”

Jason looked down at the brooch she’d pressed into his hand, shaped like a butterfly and crafted with sparkling, dark gems. It rested light in his hand, but a dark magic emanated from it. Like holding a piece of her very soul in the palm of his hand. He took a deep breath, carefully closing his fingers around it.

“The farther you travel, the more shadows should come to your aid, so long as you wear that,” she told him, a slight flush to her cheeks as she stepped away from him once more. “Like I said, it’s not much. Nothing compared to whatever aid the Olympians can give you, but—”

“It’s still appreciated,” Jason interrupted, pinning the brooch to his tunic. “I can use all the help I can get, no matter how large or how small. Thank you, Delphi. I’ll repay this kindness.”

“You don’t have to.” She waved a hand dismissively, still not looking at him. “All I ask is that you don’t forget about me once you’re up there with the Olympians. I doubt they’d let any of the rest of us in, and I’ll miss having you around here.”

“Forget about you? Never.” Jason smiled, reaching out before he could second guess himself and taking her hand. “No one else snuck out of their bed chambers to listen to Orpheus sing with me when we were kids. No one else goes to the surface and brings back poems for me to read. Once I find my parents in the mortal realm, I’m sure I’ll see you again. You go there so frequently that just because I’m not in the house anymore doesn’t mean my escape will be a permanent goodbye.”

Delphi was quiet for a moment, staring up at him with wide eyes. For being a being of death and shadow her hand was warm, small and calloused in his own. Finally, she smiled. Really smiled, even if there was some grief in it. Happy for him, happy to see him finally pursuing something with real passion and not simply dragging himself through his duties, but sad to see him go. Were it not for the wars in the mortal realm keeping her away for so long anyways, he would have been sad, too. But of everyone in the House, he knew that his chances of seeing Delphi again were the highest. Even if she wasn’t allowed into Olympus, he knew that wasn’t where his parents resided. He knew that wasn’t where he belonged. But he couldn’t continue to reside in the Underworld, in a place that he knew wasn’t his true home, either.

“I’m going to hold you to that, Jason.” Delphi gave his hand a gentle squeeze before she pulled back. “Good luck. If you need my help—”

“I’ll let you know. But try to focus more on what you have to do. Bruce is going to be even more demanding of you after I leave, and I know how easily you get stressed out. I have all the help I need. And I’d hate to get you in even more trouble than I already have.” Jason stepped back, double checking that his sword was properly clipped to his belt before he turned to leave, to take the escape route he’d been down so many times before.

“Wait, Delphi, I—” Jason began to turn, to say one last thing to her.

But she had already disappeared once more into the shadows, the only sign that she had been there at all the faint, lingering scent of sunflowers in the air. The words died on Jason’s lips and he clenched his jaw, grip tightening on the hilt of his sword. Perhaps it was best he hadn’t said them. There was no room for distractions, not when he was so close.

Once he was free, once he had reached the surface, he could tell her how he felt. But until then, he would stay silent as he always would and hope that the path he’d set himself on wasn’t a fool’s errand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you have not played the game, here are the roles i've basically given the kiddos:
> 
> Jason --> Zagreus  
> Delphi --> Thanatos  
> Bruce --> Hades  
> Nanashi --> Nyx  
> the Justice League (Clark and Diana named specifically) --> the Olympians 
> 
> i've been playing a ton of Hades and Zagreus reminds me of Jason so much (just a dumber, more polite version of him) and it just. got my AU juices flowing. i've written a few blurbs of a mythologly/gods AU over on my tumblr (you can find the first one [HERE](https://spidergwenn.tumblr.com/post/622950122543890432/foreigners-god)), but i just. really liked this idea. 
> 
> as always, thanks for reading. love y'all.


	8. Love Me Harder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick Grayson comes home from a long night on patrol wanting only one thing
> 
> (set post-What the Water Gave Me and pre-Mad Dog)
> 
> (chapter warnings: explicit sexual content [tentacle play, light bondage, praise kink, vaginal sex, anal sex, edging if you squint, cock warming, unprotected sex, discussion of aftercare]; it's just smut here folks)

Dragging himself inside the penthouse and closing the balcony door behind him as quietly as he could, Dick Grayson heaved a heavy sigh. Patrol had been long and taxing, one situation popping up just as he’d finished handling another. He’d swung all over Gotham, it felt like, tossing the occasional wave and cheeky grin to late night passerby who shouted out ‘welcome back’ to him. Of course, there would be some who didn’t take the return of Nightwing quite so graciously (‘welcome home, cheater’ was sure to be hung in some apartment buildings), but he hadn’t expected anything else from the city.

Stuck in a strange mindset, he peeled off his domino mask and boots, tossing them carelessly aside as he followed the gentle sound of water. Koshka would scold him about it later, no real heat or disappointment in her tone, rolling her eyes and dropping the pieces away into the little box in the closet they’d appointed as official costume storage. But he didn’t much care, would take the scolding later in stride. At the moment, all he wanted was to see her, to hold her, to work out some of the adrenaline that was still rushing through his veins.

It had become something of a routine in the months since Dick had returned, since they’d officially begun living together. Long nights of patrol always ended with sex, something in him needing to be set loose, some kind of tension that her hands and mouth and skin always seemed to relieve. Sometimes it was quick, sloppy, desperate and less than gentle. Sometimes they took their time, had to drag themselves to work the next morning with little to no sleep but a bone-deep satisfaction.

That night, though, Dick wanted something else. He _needed_ something else. A fantasy he’d had for a long, long while, one that he hadn’t discussed with her yet and had set on the backburner. In the immediate aftermath of his trauma, they’d had long discussions of what was and wasn’t okay, settled into a routine where he was dominant and she was submissive, set up safe words for him to use in case something went too far, in case he felt unsafe or uncomfortable. All too careful, too safe. Although he still enjoyed it, still found satisfaction, there was that little piece of him that craved risk, that _needed_ risk. That was screaming for him to step over the line, to stop being so goddamn careful all the time. To take a leap of faith.

Pushing open the half-closed master bathroom door, he grinned when he spotted Koshka, half submerged in the giant tub, one hand hanging over the edge and her hair spread out in a halo on the surface of the water around her. Bright gold eyes flashing over towards him, he felt his heart clench when she smiled, turned in the water to face him with her hands braced on the edge of the tub. His bathtub mermaid, strange and dangerous and beautiful and difficult. He’d called her that once, laughed as she splashed water at him and rolled her eyes.

“Welcome home,” she said, throaty voice echoing in a way that sent a tiny shudder through him. “How was patrol?”

“Busy.” Dick heaved a dramatic sigh, kneeling next to the tub and letting her take his face in her hands, her lips brushing soft kisses to a blossoming bruise on his cheek and a scrape on his jaw. The touch was cool, soothing, had him melting into her. “B, Tim, and Damian were all working a case together and Jason and Kate took the night off, so I was by myself.”

“Is Babs still setting up?” she asked, still cradling his face but pulling back to meet his gaze.

“Mhm. Oracle should be up and running soon, hopefully, but you know how things like to get worse before they get better around here.” Dick curled his fingers around her wrists, still wearing his gauntlets.

Koshka had voiced, more than once, how much she liked the finger stripes. He watched her slit pupils dilate slightly and suppressed the urge to grin. It was almost too easy. Skimming one hand up her arm, he leaned closer, heard her sharp intake of breath.

“I have something I’d like to try out, if you’re up for it,” Dick said, hearing the rasp in his own voice.

Because as much as he wanted, he wasn’t going to take. Not if it wasn’t being given. Although Koshka always seemed to have the energy, to rev up as quickly as he did, he was still aware of her own limits, of how exhausted she was some nights when she came home from babysitting Bruce. Dick still had his fantasies to help him get himself off, after all. But her lips curled into a wicked little smile, sharp teeth flashing as she tipped her head to the side. Like a curious cat, water rolling down her pale skin and crimson scales.

“Mm, I think so. Tell me what it is,” she purred.

“I want you to fuck me with your tentacles.”

There was a moment of silence, his words echoing. Koshka stared at him, absorbing what he’d just said. Shameless, Dick simply grinned and waited for her response. It didn’t take long.

“I… what?” she blinked, skin flushing.

“I want you to fuck me with your tentacles,” he repeated, chuckling. “Been thinking about it for forever, before… well, before everything went down. It’s all I’ve been thinking about since I got off patrol.”

“Oh.” Koshka watched him, looking for any sign of uncertainty in his expression. Then she smiled again, pushing herself further out of the water, letting him see more naked flesh, his suit suddenly feeling far too tight. “You’ve been thinking about that ever since you first saw them, haven’t you?”

Relieved that she hadn’t turned down his suggestion, he let his fingers skim up to rest against her neck, brushing a thumb over her gills.

“That obvious?” he asked with a small laugh.

“From the way you were feeling them up? Absolutely. You aren’t always as slick as you think, Grayson.” There was movement in the water, two of the deep red appendages slithering out to curl around his wrists. Gentle, careful, the tip of one just sliding beneath a gauntlet. “Are you sure? If it’s too much, if you need to stop—”

“I’ll use my safe word,” he told her, already wildly turned on just from the simple touch, mind running wild with all the ways she could fuck him. “Besides, you know I like it when you get bossy.”

“From the way you always try to jump me when I do? No, I had no idea.” Chuckling, she looked hesitant for only a moment more before shifting to sit up in the tub, tentacles sliding away so that she could pull off his gauntlets herself. Tossing them aside, he jolted when he felt two of the appendages slip beneath the back of his uniform, snaking up and pulling up the top half. The soft scales felt strange against his flushed skin, but not unpleasant, slowly helping him peel off his top and one of them setting it aside with the gauntlets. “Now, would you like to join me in the tub? Or should I take you on the floor?”

Both options sounded appealing. But he made his decision quickly, standing up and peeling off the bottom of his uniform and briefs before stepping into the tub with her. As appealing as it was to think of being pinned to the floor, begging and writhing under her, he knew that he needed to take small steps until he was ready to be completely dominated. The last thing either of them wanted was for him to use a safe word, to feel unsafe and upset. The moment he was in the water, one of the appendages snaked up his leg, another wrapping around one of his arms. Koshka’s bright eyes were dark, pupils dilated and skin flushed as he shuddered under the touch, let himself sink down and submerge himself in the warm water. She moved closer to him, hands skimming over his stomach, muscles clenching.

When she finally kissed him, he let himself melt into her, soft and pliant as her hands came up to rest on his chest. As always, she was careful not to draw blood with her sharp teeth, grazed them soft enough over his bottom lip so that they wouldn’t break the skin but still drew a shiver from him. Eyes fluttering closed, he sank back against the wall of the tub, shoulders braced against the edge as two more tentacles curled around him, one around his other arm and the other brushing over his hip.

Koshka pulled away and he let out a soft whine, trying to move up, to chase after her lips. But she pushed firmly against his chest, wicked glint in her eyes as one of her tentacles snaked over the edge of the tub, found the bottle of lube that they kept there. Really, when he thought about it, they _did_ fuck a lot in the tub. Both too impatient to dry off and walk the few steps into the bedroom, Koshka always having her evening soak when he came home from patrols. His breath was already labored as he watched her pour a bit of the silicone-based lube (research that she had done for him, bless her) into her palm. Setting aside the bottle, he watched her slick up the appendage, heart beating wildly in his chest.

Any anxiety he’d felt shattered when the appendage that had been resting on his hip wrapped around his half-hard cock, head tipping back. It took a moment to adjust to the slick, soft scales and the way they squeezed around him, pulsed slightly. Strange, different, but far from unpleasant. Within moments his hips were bucking up, jaw clenched as she wrapped tighter around him. Koshka scraped her teeth over the column of his throat, the tentacles around his arms and legs tightening ever so slightly. Not enough to hurt, a light restraint that he knew he could break out of if he wanted. But with his heels firmly planted against the other side of the tub, arms pinned by his sides, he felt more grounded. At her mercy, of course, but held securely.

“You look so pretty like this,” she whispered into his skin, voice low and husky. “Spread out, trembling. Does it feel good?”

Dick let out a strangled noise, something between a moan and a cry, ending in a garbled agreement. The praise only made his blood run hotter, chest heaving under her careful touch, her kisses trailing down to his sternum. Gold eyes meeting his own, the grip around his cock tightened slightly, the tentacle twisting and pulsing at the same time. It was hard to keep his eyes open, a soft groan slipping past his lips as he began to fuck into the appendage’s grip. The limbs wrapped around his own gave a small shudder, the scales sensitive and her smirk faltering for a small moment. The tentacle that she had lubed up slipped back into the water, his legs pulled farther apart and his hips tilting up as it pressed against his ass.

“Okay?” she whispered, searching his expression.

“Oh my god,” he choked out, head falling back again. “Just fuck me already.”

Chuckling, Koshka moved back up, the tentacle that had wrapped around his cock slipping away. A whine escaped him, high and needy, hips canting up and seeking something, anything. He was so hard it hurt, on the precipice of an orgasm. But she knew that. It was why she’d pulled back, why the slow press of the tentacle inside him was careful. Not yet, not until she wanted him to cum. The stretch burned, just for a moment. She went slow, paused with every small increment further into him, watching his expression to make sure she wasn’t hurting him. Once the thick limb was in as far as it could go, she held still.

“Such a good boy.” Koshka kissed him, soft and sweet, swallowed his little whimpers and needy moans. “You took me so good, pretty boy. Does it feel good? Do you like feeling me deep inside you?”

“Yes,” he moaned, eyes fluttering open, chest heaving as he stared up at her. In that moment, stuffed full of her and held firm, her nails pricking the flushed skin of his chest and the water cradling both of them, he would have done anything she asked. Would have debased himself, if it meant hearing her praise him, having her bring him to the brink of release over and over again. “K-kitten…”

The tentacle pulsed and he cried out, hips jerking, water splashing over the side of the tub. Other limbs pulsing around his arms and legs in sync, he suppressed the urge to thrash, to writhe beneath her. She held him so close, so tight, and he wanted to relish it. Relish the feeling of careful dominance, burn the image of the satisfaction in her expression into his memory. She kissed him again, let him surge up to deepen it as she slowly began to thrust in and out of him. The sound of his moans and her heavy breathing echoed, joined by the quiet slosh of the water, each movement careful and precise.

Either seeking pleasure herself or taking mercy on him, Koshka repositioned herself, hands braced on his shoulders as she sank down onto his painfully hard cock. Dick almost cried in relief, in the feeling of her so warm and slick around him. The pleasure was almost mind numbing, over stimulating, his fingers curling into white-knuckle fists as she fucked him, tentacle twisting and pulsing in him and her hips picking up a frenzied pace. The remaining tentacle slipped under the water, and he let out a stuttering moan when he felt it brush over his pelvis as she rubbed it over her clit. Riding him hard and fast, the careful movement of the tentacle inside of him becoming stuttering, the pulsing speeding up, he realized hazily that neither of them were going to last much longer. The grip on his limbs tightened, almost bruising, and he managed to keep his heavy-lidded eyes open as she worked herself up to the brink.

Then, with a soft hiss and a baring of her teeth, the tentacle inside of him curled and pressed hard against his prostate.

Stars burst behind his eyes and Dick could have sworn he blacked out for a second as he came, crying out and managing to thrust up into her hard. Through the roar of his own pulse in his ears, he distantly heard her cry out, felt her pulse inside of him and clench around his cock as he gave one last erratic thrust. As she shook in the aftershock of her own orgasm, Koshka pulled out of him, leaned down and pressed shaking, sloppy kisses to his cheeks and nose when he whimpered. The rest of her tentacles unwound from around him as well, slipping back into the little slits on her lower back. Panting and still half-hard inside of her, Dick wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in for another kiss, then another, until both of them were giggling and breathless.

“Are you okay?” she asked, voice soft. Gentle, only for him, the usual edge gone. She pulled back enough to look at him, cupping his cheeks. “It wasn’t too much?”

“No,” he murmured, admiring the way her hair stuck to her skin, scales shining soft in the light. “No, it was perfect. Came harder than I have in years.”

Smiling, she brushed her thumb carefully over his bruised cheek and started to move off of him. But he placed his hands on her hips, urged her to remain where she was. It felt… nice, comforting to feel her around his cock, warm and wet.

“Dick—” she started to say.

“Liliya.” He cut her off, pressing a hand over hers. Larger, rougher, calloused where her own were smooth. “Just… let me stay inside you for a bit longer, yeah? Just like this. Please.”

“… Okay.” Settling down more comfortably in his lap as he shifted, back braced fully against the back of the tub, she smiled again. “When you’re ready, we can wash your hair, get you in the shower. I got some of that bodywash that you like, the lavender one. Are there any injuries you need treated? Do you need aspirin? I can make tea or hot cocoa.”

Aftercare, never smothering but always gentle and paired with soft kisses and warm touches. For all of her thorns, her prickly personality and cold temper, Koshka provided some of the best aftercare he’d ever had. Always willing to give him what he needed, what he wanted, patient and understanding. Quick to bring out fluffy blankets or throw a towel in the dryer for a few minutes to warm it up like he liked it. Swallowing a lump in his throat and feeling a different kind of warmth spread through his limbs, he let out a happy sigh, eyes slipping closed as she pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his lips.

“You’re the best,” he mumbled, rubbing slow circles into the scales on her hips. “No injuries that need treatment. Just a few bruises and scrapes, nothing serious. Aspirin would be nice. And hot cocoa.”

“Aspirin and hot cocoa it is, then.” Koshka’s lips curled into a smile against his skin, one wide enough that he could feel it. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Koshka rested against him, singing softly as he basked in her warm presence and felt his heart beat in a quiet rhythm that felt like love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well........... that's the first time i've ever written tentacle porn and it was a wild ride for me lmao. i give koshka tentacles, i have to let her use them. sometimes self-care is just writing about a guy getting railed by his monster girlfriend. 
> 
> thanks as always for reading!! love y'all


	9. Sanctuary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fever burns in Areum, instinctual and animalistic, that only Tim can soothe. 
> 
> (set post-Mad Dog)
> 
> (chapter warnings: explicit sexual content [Areum in heat, slight degradation, begging, breeding kink if you squint, fingering, oral sex (female receiving), multiple orgasms, penetrative sex]; it's just smut, y'all)

Tim’s scent hit Areum like a ton of bricks, the need and want that had been plaguing her twisting sharp in her gut. A high-pitched whine left her, sheets tangled around her limbs, sweat breaking out on her skin again. Why was he here? Why had he come? She’d asked Steph to keep him away, told Harper to keep him busy. Squeezing her eyes shut, she turned her head to bury her face in the pillow, trying to drown out that spicy, delicious scent with her own, the wild evergreen spike of the sweat that had soaked into it.

“Areum?” Tim called out.

No. No, no, no. She clutched the pillow, curled into a tight ball. Her breath came in tiny, quick little gasps. She could hear each step he took from the front door to the hall that lead to her room. Stephanie and Harper were gone for the weekend, staying at Harper’s place, had gotten used to leaving since she’d told them about what she was, about… how she _got,_ sometimes. It had never been this bad before she’d met Tim. Maybe a couple days of more frustration that she was used to. But now? Now, they hit her hard, left her twisting and keening and desperate.

“Areum, are you—”

Words that ended abruptly, once Tim opened the door and saw her. A sharp inhale, a spike in his scent. Arousal. It made her gasp, twisting and grasping at the pillow with both hands, eyes opening to stare up at him. Her toes curled, a soft keen sounding from the back of her throat when she saw him. Saw the way his pupils had dilated, the flush that was rising to his cheeks, his white-knuckle grip on the door knob.

“T-Tim…” Her voice was high, breathy. Half muffled by the pillow. “No…”

She didn’t want him to see her like this. Debased, desperate, animalistic.

_In heat._

“Jesus, Areum, you look like hell. What—”

She flinched away when he crossed the room in just a few strides, started to reach for her. There was a throb of heat between her legs, trembling just at the thought of him touching her. Brushing those long, slender fingers over her feverish skin, helping to relieve the pain, the frustration, giving her what her body so desperately needed—

“Don’t touch me,” she half-sobbed, claws sinking into the pillow, delirious with lust. “N-not now, I…”

Whatever she was going to say, whatever words had been about to fall past her lips, disappeared in a choked moan as he pressed his hand to her sweaty forehead. Such a small, simple touch. But it ignited a fire in her, one that had her teeth lengthening and shifting, her jaw aching. The already fraying grip she had on her control was becoming looser, her body twisting as she tried to press closer to him.

“You’re burning up.” Tim’s voice was soft, dark eyes meeting her own. “Steph said that you needed some time alone, but… god, honey. How sick are you?”

“Not… not sick.” The smell in the room should have tipped him off to that. Even though his sense of smell wasn’t as sharp as her own, she knew that the heady scent of her arousal hung in the air. She knew that the shirt she wore was soaked through, hitched up, her sleep shorts both low on her hips and riding high up her thighs. “I’m… I’m not well, but…”

Tim pushed her hair away from her face, knelt next to the bed. If he stayed any longer, she was going to go insane with need. She was going to break, snap, shatter into pieces and go fully feral. His thumb brushed over her temple, his fingers wove into her hair. Such a small touch, but it almost made her cry in need, her thighs rubbing together. Still panting, she stared up at him. She knew that her eyes were all wolf, that her ears would be next to shift, if she didn’t desperately hang on. He froze, and she saw realization dawn on him. Of course. Even though she made fun of it, dismissed it as trash, she knew that he read some of those werewolf smut books, knew that they fueled some of his fantasies that he was too shy to share with her. Areum heard his breath catch in his chest, heard the sudden leap in his pulse.

“Are you…?” He swallowed a lump in his throat, his voice almost breaking. “Is it…?”

“Yes,” she keened. “Yes, and you have to go, you have to go, please, you can’t be here, you can’t see me like this, you can’t—”

It was then that she sobbed. Being like this, falling on base instincts and letting her body take control of her mind, her hormones rage and drown out rational thought, felt shameful. The first time it had happened, when she was just a teenager, her mother had talked her through it and assured her that it was fine, it was normal. But it made her feel like an animal. A wild thing, not a logical, rational being. The fact that she could still smell just a fraction of herself on him, not yet fading from when she’d marked him almost a week ago, made it so much worse.

The marking was what had done it. It had to be. But she still couldn’t quite bring herself to regret it. Even if she went fully feral, Areum didn’t think she could ever regret claiming him. When she was still herself, when she didn’t regress, smelling that small bit of herself on him… It made her happy. It made her proud.

But in the moment, it felt like torture. Wanting him, needing him, _craving_ him, but not wanting to ask it of him.

“What do you need?” Tim asked.

Areum stared at him, not quite believing her ears. Not trusting that her senses were right, not trusting that the words she heard were correct. She continued to pant like an injured dog, her skin burning where he touched her.

“You… you can’t…”

It was hard to get the words out through her misshapen teeth, her jaw popping as it tried to adjust. Tim continued to stroke her damp hair, brow furrowed in concern. It hurt. It hurt, twisted her guts, set her on fire and made her claws sink deeper into the pillow, ripping through the fabric and into the downy stuffing.

“Tell me.” Tim cupped her flushed cheek, his voice so soft. So gentle. “Tell me what you need from me.”

Christ, where did she even start? She needed everything, needed all of what he could give her and then more. She needed him to press her down into the mattress and fuck her until she was screaming. She needed his head between her thighs, needed his fingers curling inside of her. But she didn’t know how to verbalize it, not when words were so hard, seemed to slip so easily from her reach. Tears slipped down her cheeks and she whined, twisted on the mattress.

“Please.” It was a broken sob, her hand coming up to grasp his wrist. “Please… I need you…”

“What do you need?” he asked.

He needed to hear it from her. Needed to know that there was some piece of her still present, needed to hear her consenting. Of course. Sweet, sensitive Tim. He needed to know that she was in her right mind, and that he was giving, not taking. Sobbing again, staring up at him with hot tears in her eyes, molten heat pooling between her legs, making her slick.

“I need you to fuck me, please.” Areum’s voice shook, shook with the violent force of her need, her want. Feeling his pulse beneath her fingers, fluttering like a bird’s wings. “I need you to fuck me, take me, claim me, feel you inside me, all of you, please, please, please…”

It dissolved into babbling, near nonsense. A need so great it was consuming, a fire that burned on and on and would not stop until the animal, the beast inside of her had its fill. Blessedly, that was all it took. Tim cupped the back of her neck and bent down to kiss her, lips silencing her in a deep, sloppy kiss. Whimpering, she released the pillow, released his wrist, grasped the front of his shirt as he carefully turned her onto her back and pressed her into the mattress.

So much was a blur, nothing more than desperate movements as they tore off their clothes. She scraped her nails over his chest, gasped as he scraped his teeth over her throat, kicked off his jeans and his boxers and pressed his fingers inside of her. It was an easy slide, wet and slick, and she cried out in relief. Her own fingers hadn’t been enough, too small, too thin. For hours she’d been desperately masturbating, trying to bring herself to a climax that was frustratingly out of her reach. But Tim… His clever, slender fingers were longer, thicker, warmer. Calloused, and he instinctively knew how to curl them, the tempo that she needed as he thrust them in her, thumb pressing over her clit and almost making her scream.

Tim kept his voice soft, soothing. Kissed the line of her jaw as she threw her head back and whined, palmed at her breasts with his free hand. The sounds that came from her, both her lips and her cunt, were filthy, loud, shameless. She clutched at him, fingers scrabbling over warm flesh, nails raking sharp down his back. Breaking the skin, likely, leaving behind marks that would linger on his flesh. But he did not pause, curled his index and middle fingers inside of her and hit a spot that did make her scream, voice hoarse and broken and raw. Areum’s legs trembled and she shut her eyes, toes curling in the sheets that he’d shoved down to the bottom of the bed.

Vaguely, in what remained of the rational part of her brain, she was thankful that the walls were thick and whatever sounds she made would be muffled enough that she (hopefully) wouldn’t receive a noise complaint. Tim kissed his way down her sternum, still so gentle, so fucking frustratingly gentle, his dark eyes still watching her. She opened her own eyes, little whimpers and moans falling from her as he took a nipple between his lips, bit and licked and sucked so carefully. Although she wanted him to sink his teeth into her, to take and take and take and never stop taking until her body was spent and shaking, he was patient. Slow. Soft and careful and gentle.

Tim let his lips trail down to her ribs, pressing slow, lingering kisses to the skin. Then her stomach, her hip, the inside of her thigh. Finally, _finally,_ he pulled his fingers out of her and pressed his lips to her dripping core and she almost wept. It was only as he speared his tongue inside of her that she realized she _was_ weeping. His hands had curled around her hips, lifted them up, gave him a better angle with which he could eat her out like he was starving. Like he could never, ever get his fill of her. Warm tears spilling down her cheeks, she rolled her head back again, stared up at the little glow-in-the-dark stars she had placed so meticulously to get a delighted laugh from him when he’d stayed the night just a week ago. Her fingers tangled in his hair and her legs shook and her breath came in short, desperate little gasps.

But he held her up, even when her legs gave out. Lean, wiry strength, visible in the way his muscles shifted under his skin. The stubble on his cheeks rubbed against the smooth skin of her inner thighs, a delicious bit of friction on oversensitive flesh that nearly drove her over the edge. But it was when his lips closed over her clit, sucking carefully but sending a jolt through her limbs, that she finally toppled over the edge. Areum nearly blacked out from the force of it, an orgasm that had been out of her reach for two whole days and kept her up at night. When she cried out, it was a chanting of his name, raw and rasping and desperate. She pulled at his hair, tried to twist out of his grip. But he kept her held tightly, securely.

And then he kept going, licked up all of her slick and caught her gaze as he continued to fuck his tongue into her until she could barely form a coherent thought. Ate her out and let his fingers sink into the soft skin of her hips until she came again, sobbing and a litany of thanks and praise falling in a mixture of English and Korean, barely legible. But there was still a tension in her, that heat still pooled inside of her that needed to be let out.

Tim pulled back, gently lowered her back down to the mattress and pressed such soft, loving kisses to her thighs and her stomach that she wanted to cry all over again. Because even if she begged, cried for him to fuck her, even if he took her rough and hard, it would still be making love. Tender, at some level. Areum’s fingers shook as she combed them through his soft, thick hair, brushed them over the sharp line of his jaw and his soft, warm cheeks.

“What do you need?” he whispered, even though his voice was rough and strained. “What do you need?”

She needed his arms wrapped tightly around her, his skin pressed against hers, his lips stealing the breath from her lungs. She needed warmth and affection and love. But the animal inside of her also needed to be sated. So close to getting what it needed, pressing against her skin, screaming to be let out. Still uncertain if she could speak at all, she moved, slipped out from beneath him so that she could turn around. She braced her hands on the headboard of the bed, claws scraping against the wood. When she turned to look at him, arching her back and spreading her legs, she saw the moment he went from soft and gentle to desperate. It was a visible switch in his eyes, in the way he held his shoulders. His cock, so hard from the way he had been rutting against the mattress while he focused on what she needed, twitched.

“Please,” she whispered.

Tim reached for her nightstand, yanked the drawer out so violently it almost was wrenched out completely, pulled out a condom. The wolf inside of her whined, wanted to beg to feel him cum inside of her, thick and warm. The wolf wanted him to breed her, to pump her so full that it spilled out of her. But the logical part of her prevailed and she simply whimpered, watched as he rolled the condom on and positioned himself behind her. There was still law school, finding a permanent job, finding a home fit for a family. No time for pups, she reminded the crying wolf. Not yet. _Not yet._

When he pushed inside of her, she did cry. Not from pain. She was too wet, had been stretched properly by his fingers. Areum cried because he felt perfect inside of her, filled her up in a way that made her feel whole. There was no gentleness in him now. He drove into her hard, gripped her hips with a bruising force as he thrust into her. She had to grip the headboard tighter, her head almost knocking into it with how hard he fucked her. Back arched, she rolled her hips back against him, panted and moaned and told him how good he felt. Tim bent over her, pressed his face into the crook of her neck and moaned into her skin.

Animalistic. Desperate. Wild. Rough. Everything she needed, everything he’d wanted. Tim’s teeth sank into her skin and she sobbed, clenched around him. He shuddered, gripped her harder, tighter, rutted into her at a furious pace. The tension pulled tight, tighter, humming inside of her. Until, finally, it snapped. She screamed as she came for the third time, finally found some relief and felt her arms give out, fell forward into her pillows. Tim didn’t last much longer, gave a few more sloppy, arhythmic thrusts before he came with a choked moan of her name.

Both of them struggled to catch their breath, Tim holding himself over her until he finally pulled out of her. Areum let out a gasping sound as he did, rolled onto her side and watched with blurry eyes as he discarded the condom. The low burning pain was gone, faded from her limbs and was replaced by a bone deep satisfaction. Still panting, she gave Tim a shaky smile when he sat on the bed, brushed her hair from her eyes again. He smiled back, soft and warm and tender. When she reached for him, he took her hand, laced his fingers with hers and brought it up so that he could press kisses to her knuckles.

“Does this happen often?” he murmured into her skin, sharp eyes meeting her own.

“Not usually this bad,” she whispered back. She smiled as he wiped the tears from her cheeks, bent to kiss her flushed skin. “Maybe a little frustration that can be fixed with a few sessions of rigorous masturbating. But… I haven’t had a heat this bad in years.”

“You don’t have to suffer through it.” Tim smiled, helped her sit up and let her lean into his side. “We’re mates, right? Whatever you need, whenever you need it… I’m here for you.”

“And because you liked it,” Areum chuckled, grinning when he flushed.

“I mean…” He sighed, resting his cheek against the top of her head. “My stupid hot girlfriend, begging and whining for me to fuck her? Can you blame me?”

“No.” She laughed again, a little breathless. “But I’m… I’m good now.”

“Good.” Pressing kisses to her temple, he pulled back to look her in the eye. “Want to take a shower?”

“God, am I that sweaty and gross?” she grumbled.

“Mm, just a little. And I figured it might help.”

Tim stood, pulled her to her feet and let her lean against him since her legs were still a bit shaky, still a bit weak. Areum buried her face in his chest, breathed deep and let his scent that felt so much like home wash over her. He rubbed her back, let her have a moment. Then she pulled back enough to look up at him and smile.

“A shower sounds great, _oppa.”_

He groaned, eyes narrowed as her grin took on a wicked edge.

“Shower first.” He kissed the tip of her nose, let his hand slip down to press against the small of her back. “Then we can change your sheets. Get some food and water in you. And then, if you _really_ need it, we can go again.”

Areum didn’t need it. She was sated, warm, happy. Wanted to purr, would have wagged her tail if she’d had it. But she couldn’t deny the comfort that she found in his skin against hers, his lips curling into a sweet little smile.

So long as she had Tim Drake, Areum would have everything she would ever need.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: hm, i need to do a sidefic for tim and areum  
> my brain, feverish and high on medicine: write filthy smut. just do it. 
> 
> it's october, so i guess i'm doing smut for each of my couples for spooky month [shrugs]
> 
> love y'all. take care of yourselves.


	10. Can't Help Myself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delphi receives more than one gift from Jason for her birthday
> 
> (chapter warnings: sexual content [penetrative sex, unprotected sex]; it's mostly fluff, y'all)
> 
> (set post-Red Sun)

Delphi crept as quietly as she could into the apartment, closing the door with a soft click behind her and slipping out of her high heeled shoes. Setting her bag down as well, she held a finger up to her lips when Schnitzel trotted out of the bedroom to greet her, tail wagging happily. Although a few lights were on in Jason’s apartment, she wasn’t certain if he was asleep, and didn’t want to risk waking him up. Lately, it seemed that he was having trouble sleeping, and she had stayed at Lucifer’s party at Lux much later than she’d planned. Creeping on stockinged feet further into the apartment, she checked the sofa to see if he had fallen asleep there waiting for her before moving into the bedroom.

Jason was not there. Frowning, she let Yarrow clamber up onto her shoulders from her previous perch on the mattress, the familiar nuzzling against her cheek and purring loudly. She scratched Yarrow’s ears, reaching out to the familiar warmth of their bond.

 _Where did Jason go?_ she asked, flipping on the lights in the open living area and moving into the kitchen.

 _The Jason went on patrol shortly after Oracle left,_ Yarrow answered, leaping off Delphi’s shoulders and onto the counter.

Delphi considered scolding the familiar for a moment before shrugging it off, knowing that Yarrow wouldn’t make a mess or break anything. Stretching up to pull down a mug and a box of chamomile tea, she frowned. The familiar watched her, forked tail twitching as she sat down next to the coffee pot.

 _Oracle is troubled,_ Yarrow’s hissing little voice observed.

 _It’s late,_ Delphi observed, filling the kettle and setting it on the stove, pulling the sleeves of her cardigan over her fingertips and sighing. _Patrol is why he couldn’t make the party tonight, but I thought he would have been home and asleep by now._

If she was being honest with herself, she was worried. Worried about all the sleep that Jason seemed to be missing, the fact that he was staying out later and later at night, and the way he seemed to be recklessly throwing himself into work. It had only been a couple of weeks since they’d returned early from their vacation, and she was concerned that he was trying to make up for what had happened between him and his family too fast, too soon. Forgiveness took time, but Jason seemed to be dead set on trying to speed run it.

It was also a few minutes past 2 am on her birthday, and deep down, Delphi knew she was a little disappointed because part of her had been hoping to crawl into bed and receive a sleepy greeting and ‘happy birthday’ after the stress of the party. There had been too many people, too many bodies crowded into the space, too many hands that had reached out to rest on her shoulder or the small of her back, greeting her and congratulating her Uncle Lucifer at her side and wishing her an early happy birthday.

 _The Jason will come home._ Yarrow butted her head against Delphi’s arm, batting at her sleeve until she finally sighed and stroked the familiar’s fur.

 _I know._ Even over the bond, in her own head, she could hear the exhaustion in her voice. _But thank you._

Yarrow purred, nuzzling against her hand and sending a wave of warm comfort through the invisible string that tied them together. Sighing, she pulled back once the kettle began to whistle, pouring steaming hot water into the mug and triple checking that the stove was off before moving to collapse onto the couch. Even though the insulation in the apartment was good, it was still an uncommonly hot summer, and hot tea likely wasn’t the best thing for her to have. But her nerves were on end and she desperately needed a bit of comfort, the warmth of the ceramic between her hands and the scent of chamomile wafting up with the steam. Yarrow padded in just after her, curling up next to her on the couch and resting her head on her paws, eyes drifting shut and a wave of calm rolling through her.

A few minutes later, Schnitzel raised his head from the dog bed she’d gotten for him and set up next to the couch, ears perking up and tail giving a tiny wag. Even before she caught movement from the corner of her eye, she knew that Jason had finally come home. Feeling a strange mixture of excitement, relief, and nervousness, she set down her mug and rushed over to the balcony doors, opening them just as he pulled off his helmet with a heavy sigh. Delphi did a quick visual check; she couldn’t see any blood, any tears in his costume that could indicate that he’d been stabbed or shot. When her eyes flicked up to his face, Jason offered her a tired smile, hair a tousled mess from his fingers carding through it.

“Hey, sweetheart.” His voice was soft, and he let out a quiet sigh as she let him walk past her, closing the doors behind him and locking them. “You’re still up?”

Delphi nodded, staying by the balcony and watching him as he set his helmet in its wall vault and stripped off his coat. No blood, good. Although she would have happily patched him up if he had gotten hurt, she was quietly glad that she wouldn’t have to spend the first few hours of her birthday mending wounds. Schnitzel leaned against his legs, tail wagging violently as Jason rubbed at his ears and chest. Once his attention was back on her, she gave him a tiny smile.

 _I stayed later at the party than I meant to._ Her signing was more confident now, and she paused so that he could bend down and give her a soft, lingering kiss. Once he pulled back, her heart fluttered in her chest for a moment at the look in his eyes and she hesitated before continuing. _I thought you would already be back._

“I had to stop by the Manor after finishing up patrol with the brat to pick something up.” The leather of his gloves was warm as he cupped her face, smile fond as he held her gaze. “Would’ve been back sooner, but I was catching up with Alfred.”

Tipping her head to the side, she brought up a hand to sign a quick _what_ , knowing that he would pick up on her meaning. His smile grew warmer, eyes lighting up as he took a step back and let his fingers slip away from her face. Lacing her fingers together, she watched with her heart in her throat as he retreated back to his coat and pulled something from one of the inner pockets. A parcel wrapped in brown paper and tied with string. When he offered it to her, she took it with shaking hands, fingers carefully undoing the string and keeping the paper intact as she unwrapped it.

 _The Books of Earthsea._ Delphi had mentioned it briefly to Jason, once. An illustrated collection of all of the Earthsea books and stories. But the cover was different than the one she’d seen in the library, leatherbound with a golden dragon stamped into the front. Pressing it to her chest, she looked back up at Jason with hot tears pricking at the back of her eyes. He smiled back, the barest hint of nerves fading away when he saw how tightly she held the large book.

“I remembered you telling me about the collection, how much you enjoyed reading the books while we were on the road. B knows a guy who makes custom covers, and I thought…” He shrugged, looking sheepish. “It’d… be nice to give you something special. One of a kind. I know I’m an hour late for your birthday, but—”

Delphi cut him off, keeping the book held tight to her chest with one arm while she grabbed him by the front of his uniform with the other, pulling him down so that she could kiss him. Smiling against her lips, he pulled back to take off one of his gloves, carefully wiping away the tears that had rolled down her cheeks.

“I’m guessing those are happy tears,” he murmured.

Nodding, Delphi pressed another quick kiss to his jaw before moving to the couch, setting the gift down next to her half-finished tea. The party had been Lucifer’s gift to her, a celebration within a celebration, known only to those that he thought mattered. Mazikeen, in a kind gesture that seemed very much uncharacteristic for the lilim, had gifted her with the black silk dress that she wore and had done her make-up and swept her hair up in an intricate braided updo. Now Jason had given her this gift, and in just a matter of hours she would be at her mothers’ house for the birthday party Sumiko had insisted Delphi let her throw for her. Twenty years of nothing but little pastries for birthdays, and she now seemed to be drowning in gifts. She wasn’t sure how to feel about it, a little overwhelmed as she always was when someone went out of their way to be kind to her. Taking a deep breath, she wiped at her face, willed herself to stop crying.

“Hey.” Strong arms wrapped around her, and she melted back against Jason as he pulled her close, his head dipping so that he could press his cheek against hers. “Was it too much?”

She shook her head, glad that he’d leaned down on her non-blind side. Turning her head, she met his eye, let her hands rest over his. Hesitating for a moment, she lifted her hands back up to sign, his attention drawn back to her trembling fingers.

_It’s wonderful. Thank you. I’m just not used to it._

A quiet moment passed and she watched him absorb that information. Jason’s arms tightened around her a fraction, and he let out a low sigh, warm breath gusting over the flushed skin of her clavicle. A tiny shiver went through her at the feeling, at how his fingers curled in the light material of her cardigan. She worried, for that moment, if she’d messed up, brought the mood crashing down. Instead, he pressed a soft kiss to her throat, just below the satin choker she wore.

“You’ll grow used to it, eventually.” His lips brushed over her skin as he spoke, sending another shudder through her. “Pretty sure Sumiko is going to go above and beyond for your party, too. She and Nanashi have twenty whole birthdays to catch up on.”

Delphi let out a small, rasping noise, the closest to a laugh she was capable of. Sniffling, she closed her eyes as Jason laughed as well, the deep sound rumbling through his chest and against her back. As touched as she was by the gift, which couldn’t have been cheap, it wasn’t necessary. Just having Jason there, washed in his warm affection, was enough. Seeing her mothers, the family she’d wanted so desperately when she was a child, and having them drown her in their own affection would be enough. Because as warm and total as Sumiko’s love was, she’d come to appreciate the quiet way that Nanashi showed she cared, too. It was hard to catch, sometimes. Nothing more than a quick text to check in on her, or buying her dresses and jewelry that she’d caught Delphi admiring in store windows. But sometimes, if she was lucky, she could catch a warm look in Nanashi’s eyes, a soft smile, things she tried to hide behind her hard shell.

Although it was late, although they were both tired and her tea was rapidly growing cold, Delphi slipped from his arms and turned to face him. Jason started to reach for her again but stopped, fingers curling into loose fists.

 _Can I be selfish?_ she signed.

Chuckling, Jason folded his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow.

“I wish you would be more often,” he admitted. “Of course, angel. What do you want?”

Stepping close to him again, she didn’t answer him by signing, by attempting to speak. Instead, she carefully unfolded his arms and slowly pulled down the zipper on the top half of his costume. When she glanced up at him, one hand slipping under the body armor to press against his warm skin, his eyes had darkened. There was no point in words. It was clear what she wanted, and even more obvious that he was willing.

In the span of a breath, they were tearing at their clothes. Delphi managed to unzip and unbuckle the body armor, let it fall to the floor before she helped him pull off the compression shirt Jason wore beneath it. He threw her cardigan to the side, hitched the skirt of her dress up to her waist and let out a low groan when he saw that she was wearing her thigh high stockings. By the time they made it to the bedroom, her panties had been tossed aside as well, her legs wrapped around his waist as he kicked the door closed behind him. Instead of throwing her onto the bed, he pressed her back against the door. She whimpered as he marked the skin of her chest with little bites, one arm keeping her held up while he shoved his pants and briefs down with the other.

He pressed into her fast and rough, making her gasp and grip at his back, nails biting into the skin. The burn wasn’t unpleasant, faded quickly into molten pleasure as his grip on her thighs turned bruising and he thrust into her at a relentless, demanding pace. Head thumping back against the door, she arched her back and let out a rough, broken moan. Jason pressed his face against the hollow of her throat, words of praise falling low and rough from his lips. How warm and wet she was, how well she took him, how pretty she was when she gasped and moaned and her lips moved in silent pleas. She grasped his hair with one hand, the other straying low on his back as he rutted into her.

It was always a crapshoot, whether they took their time with one another, Jason’s head between her thighs as he drew orgasm after orgasm after her, her legs wrapped around him and his head thrown back as she rode him slowly and took her time pushing him over the edge. But sometimes, it was like this; rough, fast, hard, desperate. Chasing after a quick orgasm, needing it sooner rather than later. Delphi liked both, but found some perverse joy in the rough way he handled her when they were both too impatient to spend hours tangled up in one another. Although she would have to wear a high collared shirt and scarf to hide the blooming marks he had littered over her throat and chest, would likely have pale bruises in the shape of his fingers when she woke, she felt an odd sense of pride in seeing and wearing them.

A reminder of how deeply he wanted her, matching her own desire. Sometimes there was a flash of guilt in his eyes when he saw the marks, when she walked a little funny the next day. But she always reassured him, let him know that she was fine with it, that he didn’t need to hold himself back. And if he pampered her a little more the next day, went out of his way to draw her a bubble bath or made her favorite tea for her and put a little more effort in making her dinner, neither of them complained about it.

Jason picked up the pace, words melting away into gasps and groans, panting against her skin. The hot, tight knot low in her core began to unravel as well, a molten heat seeping through her limbs until she came undone first, clenching around him and grasping at him as her orgasm washed over her. He followed not long after, giving a few last stuttering thrusts as he came inside of her, warm and sticky. They remained where they were for a moment, shuddering and catching their breath, before he slowly set her down. Delphi’s legs felt unsteady, hips and thighs a bit sore, and would have stumbled if he hadn’t kept an arm wrapped tight around her waist.

Chuckling, he pressed kisses over her face, helped her to the bathroom so that they could clean up.

“Remind me to thank Maze the next time I see her. She did a _really_ good job on your makeup,” he murmured, grinning when she flushed and accepted the washcloth he held out to her.

A comfortable silence fell as they both stripped down, Jason helping her unpin and comb out her hair. Delphi washed what remained of her smudged makeup from her face, used another wipe to carefully remove the dark lipstick that she had smeared across Jason’s jaw, mouth, and throat. Once they were both clean, he scooped her up, carrying her back into the bedroom. They slipped naked under the sheets, curled around one another, and Delphi took bone deep comfort in the warm press of his skin against hers. She curled into his side, laid her head on his chest, listened to the steady beat of his heart and traced the pale patchwork of scars on his arm.

“Happy birthday, Delphi,” he murmured, pressing a lazy, tired kiss to the top of her head.

As she closed her eyes and abandoned herself to the warm, dark embrace of sleep, Delphi smiled and allowed herself to be truly, deeply happy. Even if she never received another gift again, didn’t have parties thrown for her, it would be more than enough to have Jason by her side for every birthday to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally started writing this to be more filthy smut but, as with most things involving Delphi and her Big Baby Energy, it turned tender and soft instead
> 
> sumiko belongs to [the lovely mari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bringmetea)
> 
> thanks as always for reading. love y'all.


	11. Teeth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> chapter warnings: gore, body horror if you squint
> 
> A nameless god hunts in Gotham
> 
> (set pre-canon)

The nameless god stared into the mirror, reality fracturing for the briefest moment, as it always seemed to when she gazed upon her reflection. On one side, she could see the human face; too beautiful, with pouty lips colored dark crimson, long, thick lashes, and blood red eyes lined with dark kohl. On the other side, a seething horror, all sharp teeth and shadows, a multitude of glowing eyes staring back, the symmetry of what could loosely be called a face knowing no logical bounds and of alien geometries. When she blinked, a slow and deliberate closing of her eyes, reality had settled back to what she preferred, the human mask smirking back at her.

For all the hundreds of years she had lived, a new millennium coming to pass while she still haunted the earth, her grip sometimes loosened on what she needed to be and what she wanted to be. Leaning forward, she refreshed the dark lipstick she wore, blending once more into the surroundings of the dirty, cramped nightclub bathroom she stood in. The last thing she needed was for some woman to come stumbling in, drunk or high or a combination of both, and see a seething creature of shadow pulled straight from nightmares. It was the hunger that was loosening her iron clad control, twisting and hollowing her out, each warm body that passed her driving her closer and closer to the edge.

Once, it had been easy to hunt in Gotham. The shadows welcomed her like a well-known lover, had made it so easy and so simple to draw in her prey, chase them down in dark alleys and eat her fill. The last time she had been to the city, it had been a lawless and depraved place, a city of extreme wealth and even more extreme poverty. So many warm bodies that wouldn’t be missed, a haven for creatures such as her. Her mentor at the time, a full two decades past, had turned a blind eye. At some level, he had known what she was. Seen past the sweet smiles to the poison that lay just beneath the surface, his gaze sometimes lingering on what she had claimed was an experimental prosthetic arm but which, sometimes, seemed to slither and shift like oil in the light.

Then, she had eaten her fill. Chased down men that would not be missed, feasted on flesh and blood and shown up to rehearsal the next morning with rosy cheeks and a bright smile. When she had donned the skin of the black swan for the entertainment of the rich and wealthy, she had dazzled. Been just dark enough, just dangerous enough, moved in a way that seemed just _wrong enough_ to gain the interest of the people she really wanted. For the twenty some plus years later, she had changed her surname but still captured the same attention, been able to travel the world and amass all the wealth and fame that she could crave.

Now, Gotham was not so easy a hunting ground. Not with the Bat and his Robin fluttering about in the night, an uncanny sense of justice guiding them just where they were needed most. She was still uncertain what exactly had drawn her to the city. There was nothing for her there; the ballet could only offer her supporting roles, and getting rid of the competition was not quite so easy when there were eyes and ears always watching and listening in the shadows that had once been her home. The lover that she had come to see in the city those twenty odd years ago had moved on, made something of his life while she had spiraled further and further into a darkness that consumed her whole. But there had been something in her that had blossomed, a tiny sprout of something that shook her to the core that drew her to the city. Not permanently, not if she had anything to say about it.

But Gotham still drew her into its dark, inescapable gravity, all the same. Slipping the tube of lipstick back into the clutch she had brought with her, she slid back out onto the floor of the nightclub, the pounding bass drowned out by the chaotic rhythm of the heartbeats surrounding her. When she was swallowed whole by so many bodies, there was no music; at least, not any music that human, mortal ears could hear. Only a sweet symphony of blood rushing through veins, air filling lungs, sweat laced with designer drugs and expensive alcohol. It sang to her, drew her back into the orbit of the writhing bodies on the dance floor, the heat of gazes sliding off her skin as she moved further and further in. Finally, she locked gazes with a young man only a few paces away from her. His dark eyes raked over her figure, the plunging neckline that revealed a scandalous amount of cleavage and the short hem of her skirt that just barely afforded her something approaching modesty.

Her lips curled into a ravenous smile, head tipping slightly to the side as he gravitated towards her. Not a bad looking mortal, a thin sheen of sweat on his olive skin and his thick, dark hair swept back from his face. Hunger hollowed her out further, and she had to keep herself from pouncing on him as he made his way to her, rested a hand low on her hip and pressed close. What, precisely, she was hungry for she wasn’t quite certain. It had been some time since she’d had a lover, male or female, but the twist in her gut felt more like her uncanny, monstrous body screaming for warm flesh.

“What’s your name?” he shouted, lips close to her ear, trying to be heard over the roar of the music and the symphony of mortality around them.

“Nana,” she answered, resting her hands on his chest and craning up to brush her lips over his ear, feeling the full body shiver that went through him. “Dance with me?”

There was no need for words, past that point. She did not want to know his name, and he did not want to share it. Men always resorted to a base animal instinct, once they were faced with an object of desire. The basic wants of man could really be boiled down to three things: fighting, feeding, and fucking. His hands skimmed low on her back, their bodies pressed close, grinding and swaying to the pulsing rhythm of the music. The god did not sweat, because the god was not capable of tiring. But the smell of it lingered on his skin, mixed with the oozing pheromones and spike of lust as she smirked up at him, one hand cupping the back of his head, their faces tipping closer and closer. She allowed him to kiss her, although it was not pleasant. A necessary discomfort, and one that she played along with.

It took no time at all for him to press his lips to her ear, suggest loudly over the music that she come back to his place. Red eyes glinting, her smile grew sharper. Just as she had planned. He drew her out into an alley, hands skimming over her body. She pressed him back against the wall, smiled up at him and _pressed._ It wasn’t hard, the human brain so easy to manipulate. Teeming with desire, a thing she knew all too well. Just a little push, a little press, a small suggestion, and they caved. He was putty in her hands, chuckling and letting his hands skim down to her ass. Squeezing, head tipping back as she pressed her lips to his throat. She could feel the rapid pulse of blood, just beneath warm skin. Pressing him further against the wall with one hand on his chest, she let reality crack. Just a little. Just enough.

The shadows curled around them, tendrils of it wrapping around his mouth, silencing any noise he might have made once she unhinged her jaw and let her teeth sink into the column of his throat. Warm blood burst from under thin skin and she tore out flesh, bone, tendon, muscle. She let herself shift into something closer to her true form as she fed. Tore into the still warm, still twitching body with claws and fangs, limbs that were too long and eyes that saw too much. His sternum and ribs cracked open easily under her touch, allowing her to get what she really wanted. His heart was still beating when she sank her teeth into it, warm blood gushing down her chin and throat. Slowly, she stopped feeding. Let the shadows slip back away from her and dragged the body into a darker corner of the alley, tossed it easily into a dumpster.

The hunger had faded, replaced by a feeling of being warm, full. Almost sated. But there was still an emptiness in her. One that no amount of feeding or hunting or desire could fill. She wiped away the blood on her skin, licked it from her fingers and hands until she was as close to clean as she could get before going back to her hotel, indulging in a too long, too hot shower. Form flickering back to almost human, the crack in reality slowly sealed itself. Although the god should have fled, known that the shadows were no longer a place that she alone inhabited, she lingered for a moment longer.

There really was no other place to go, other than back to the hotel. Back to a luxurious suite, where rich men with money to burn would try to court her. Back to pretending that it was all enough, that she wasn’t itching for more. Always more, never enough, an endless hunger that could never truly be satisfied. Once, she would have gone to visit a man who hadn’t given into base desires easily. A lover who had been able to keep up with her, who had accepted her nature. But that relationship had ended amicably on her last visit to Gotham. And her other lover, the one who had always seemed to appear when she was at her lowest, her darkest, had disappeared years before he had arrived; that crack in her heart had never sealed, and never would. It would always be a bleeding wound, left by a too-clever fox.

Nothing to lose. Nothing to gain. A dangerous combination, and one that had led her to make many, many stupid decisions when she spiraled, when an eternity alone and in the darkness seemed too much. It had led her to making a deal with a group of insane religious zealots, giving them genetic material in exchange for a ludicrous amount of money. A bum deal for them, since she knew that no life could ever bloom from her. Only shadows, decay, and death. But lately, she’d had a strange feeling. An impossible feeling. That little sprout that had begun to grow, that had pulled her to Gotham. Strange dreams, when she closed her eyes and let herself sleep, visions of white halls and white clothes, classrooms and nurseries that seemed more like prison cells.

It was impossible, she reminded herself. She’d had husbands who had wanted her to bear their children, but any life that had started to grow was devoured, consumed. Even outside of her body, it was simply not feasible for them to actually create a child from her flesh and blood, the seeds never meant to sprout and bloom. There was no child. There was no piece of herself that had grown and lived, reached out in her dreams.

It was restlessness. Another spiral. A lust for risk and danger, wanting to test herself against a new threat. That was all. A different way to fill the emptiness. Nothing more. Nothing less.

There was a flicker of movement on the rooftops. A shadow that did not belong. The god snarled, backed away into the darkness. It embraced her, knew her as its mistress and its kin, unlike the shape that dropped to the ground mere feet in front of her. What she had thought were wings was only a cape, settling around not a monster who stalked the night but a man out of his depth. The Bat, the little Robin not by his side. Alone in a place that was hostile to him. She stayed only long enough to let him catch a glimpse of her eyes shining like blood in the dark before the shadows swallowed her whole and she slithered, formless, into the night.

She would leave Gotham in the morning, shed the skin she had grown there and continue her restless path. But the god wanted the Bat to know that it was not just men that he would find in the shadows, not just mortals that he made enemies of when he hunted so blindly in the dark. For that fleeting moment, she let him see that there were creatures beyond his knowledge, beyond his understanding, beyond reason and reality, that were found in the shadows he stalked.

And in that brief moment, she had sensed a spike of fear, a lesson learned. If she ever returned, it would be best for him to remember. Because the darkness was her domain, and she was not the kind of being who liked to share what was rightfully hers.

Perhaps, she thought to herself as she washed the last of the blood from her skin, caught a flicker of that other reality in the mirror, she would get to sink her teeth into a Bat, too. She smiled, and wondered if his blood would taste as sweet as his fear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wanted to write something for nana, since she's still a pretty big Unknown so far in this universe and has a pretty big part to play. at first i considered writing something set after red sun, but decided that maybe giving a little glimpse into what she was before delphi would be fun. plus, it only seemed proper to write for my spookiest child during spooky month. 
> 
> thanks as always for reading. love y'all.


	12. Big and Scared

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> chapter warnings: emotional distress, a very small hint of violence, Bruce being emotionally constipated
> 
> Bruce Wayne does his best to protect Delphi when Scarecrow crashes a party
> 
> (set post-Red Sun)

Bruce Wayne could think of at least a dozen places he would’ve rather been on a Friday night instead of LUX. Since the nightclub had opened, he’d been dodging invitations to exclusive parties and celebrations. Although he had to show up to galas and charity dinners and other events to represent Wayne Enterprises, he didn’t enjoy it. Would rather be out on the streets, taking care of his city, protecting her in the way that only he and his family could. But Cassandra had received an invitation from Mai Kurogane, the two girls seeming attached at the hip, and she had asked him to come along.

Bruce Wayne loved his daughter, and when she looked up at him with hope in her big, dark eyes, it was frustratingly hard to say no to her. It had been a while since he’d gone to the ballet with her or had a patrol with her or spent any time with her alone. So, caving in to a rising sense of guilt and his deep love for her, he had agreed to go.

The party was a who’s who of shady, influential figures in Gotham. Politicians who could be easily bought and swayed, detectives on the vice beat who would look the other way for the right price, prodigal children of old Gotham money with connections to the underworld, and a few members of Gotham’s magic underground. At some point, he knew that Lucifer Morningstar himself would make his way over, inquire as to why it had taken so long for Bruce Wayne himself to finally show up at one of his parties. He wasn’t looking forward to that conversation. As easily as Bruce could smile and lie to most socialites and investors, pretend like he enjoyed empty conversation and being surrounded by greed, he suspected that it would be much more difficult to lie to the devil himself.

Cassandra had made a beeline for the Kurogane girl, both of their faces lighting up upon seeing one another before Cassandra drew her into a tight hug. Bruce hung back, feeling awkward, uncertain if he should disappear into the crowd and give the girls their time alone together. Before he could turn, try to find a glass of overpriced whisky to hold in his hand for the entire party and pretend to take sips of, Cassandra had reached out and grasped his hand, pulled him over. The change in Kurogane’s expression was immediate, warm affection melting away, shoulders tensing.

 _This is my dad,_ Cassandra signed, her usual speed slowed down to ensure that Kurogane, still learning, could understand. _I don’t think you’ve officially met._

Not as Mai Kurogane and Bruce Wayne, they hadn’t. But he’d tried to engage her before as the Batman, feeling some sense of security in his other identity. She’d been scared, avoided him on the nights when he joined Damian or Cassandra in watching over her. Frankly, he wasn’t sure if she’d been told that Bruce Wayne and Batman were one and the same. But when he met her eye, he knew. Knew that she knew, but would play along with so many others around. Slowly, she nodded, fidgeting hands faltering a moment before she signed a quick _nice to meet you._

He put on his best Brucie Wayne smile, took one of her small, warm hands and gave it a gentle shake.

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” he said, keeping up the act. “Cassandra talks about you a lot.”

Not just Cassandra, of course. But his son, her partner, was still legally dead, and saying his name would be like dropping a nuclear bomb, setting off a chain of hushed rumors and whispers. She smiled, returned the handshake before pulling her hand back and letting it curl nervously in the lacy fabric of her skirt. Cassandra watched it all with her sharp eyes, standing just a bit closer to her friend, fingertips brushing over her wrist in a small, almost invisible attempt at comfort.

It was hard for him to be around Kurogane, too. She looked so much like her mother; both of her mothers. Because although she had the same dark skin as Nana Kurogane, the same soft features and quiet grace to her movements, she also had a grim determination in her eyes that he’d seen in board rooms with Sumiko Kurokawa, a dark look that hid a softness if someone bothered to look deeper than a surface level. Cassandra adored her, Jason loved her with a ferocity that Bruce quietly envied, Dick and Liliya had taken to treating her like a younger sister, even Damian had become fond of her. There was a magnetism in her that was all Nana Kurogane, quiet and perhaps not something she was aware of, but that anyone who entered her orbit could feel.

And there was a sadness in her, breaking the surface in fleeting moments, reflected in the sunburst of scars around her blind eye, that made his heart ache.

“Ah, it looks like you’ve captured the elusive Mr. Wayne.” Lucifer Morningstar appeared, seemingly out of thin air, his smile sharp as he extended a hand to Bruce. “Nice of you to finally respond to one of my invitations.”

“I’ve been busy with work,” Bruce said, his answering smile just as sharp, grip just a bit too tight on Morningstar’s hand. “But Cassandra asked me to come with her, and I just couldn’t say no.”

“I know how that goes.” Pulling back his hand, Morningstar ruffled Kurogane’s hair, a brief flash of fondness in his cold eyes. “Why don’t we leave the girls alone for a bit, let them catch up? I have a few opportunities that I would _love_ to talk to you about.”

Bruce managed not to wince, kept up a polite smile as he watched Cassandra and Kurogane move away, keeping at the edges of the crowd. This was _exactly_ what he’d been afraid of. It always happened, when Liliya wasn’t there to play defense, shoot off looks at anyone trying to approach him that promised pain in whatever form she felt like. Slipping his hands into the pockets of his Hugo Boss suit (black on black, a defeated look on Alfred’s face when he’d left), he declined Morningstar’s offer of a glass of fine whisky, reluctantly followed the man to the bar. The woman tending it shot him a look that he was all too familiar with from Liliya, a withering glare that cut straight to the core of him. Strangely, he found a bit of comfort in it, even though the woman likely would have been happy to gut him if Morningstar asked.

“You can talk to me about these opportunities,” Bruce said, the last word purposefully clipped, “but I’m afraid that without my right-hand woman here, no promises or assurances of funding on my end can be made.”

“Yes, yes, I’m well aware of how instrumental that clever little assistant of yours is, how many deals go through at her discretion… Ms. Koshka, correct? Or is it Mrs. Grayson now?” Morningstar asked, wicked gleam in his eye as he sipped at his drink.

A cold feeling traveled down Bruce’s spine, although he was careful not to show it. Instead, he leaned against the bar, kept up his smile.

“Still a month out from the wedding,” he said. “I see that you do your research.”

“Of course. A shrewd businessman always knows everything he can find about potential allies, potential enemies.” Morningstar didn’t need to elaborate. It was clear enough that he was talking about finding potential blackmail material. “I know that there are certain… _rumors_ about me, about how I conduct business. And I also know that you do an admirable job keeping your company above board. But I think I could be quite a good friend to have, Mr. Wayne.”

“I’m sure you think so.” Bruce meant for it to sound as nasty as it came out. Frankly, he didn’t like Morningstar’s presence in his city. There were things that he was willing to turn a blind eye to, even if his children and his friends didn’t believe it. But working with the devil? He didn’t go to his synagogue nearly as often as he should have, but he still went to talk to his rabbi when he was troubled, still went to the Kent family Hanukkah celebrations and quietly observed Rosh Hashana, Passover, and Yom Kippur. Even if he hadn’t seen people connected with Roman Sionis, Cobblepot, and what remained of the Falcone empire, he wouldn’t have agreed to anything. There was a steep price for compromising one’s morals; one he was all too familiar with. He wouldn’t ever be able to stomach working with the devil. “You can tell me all about your plans, Mr. Morningstar, but I’m afraid that I have all the friends I need already.”

“Perhaps.” Setting down his glass, Morningstar leaned in closer. The dim lights above the bar made his golden eyes glint like coins, his smile becoming sharper. “Tell me, Bruce. What is it that you desire?”

None of his business. A wildly inappropriate thing to ask, and one that made his blood boil. It was a dangerous thing to admit. But he was unable to tear his gaze from Morningstar’s, his jaw locked for a moment. The answer bubbled up in his head, threatened to spill past his lips. So many things, things he had been terrified to admit to himself, kept locked away for fear that they would distract him, bring harm to those that he loved. Bruce swallowed thickly, struggling against whatever was compelling him. But then he felt his traitorous mouth open.

“I…” He grit his teeth, tried to keep it in.

“Come now, Bruce.” The color of Morningstar’s eyes shifted. His face flickered, appearing far less human for a terrifying second. “You can tell me.”

“I… I want…”

A chill went down his spine. Something was wrong. Morningstar felt it, too. Breaking his hypnotic gaze, he stared out at the front of the club, smirk replaced by a deep, furious scowl. He pushed away from the bar, not bothering to glance at Bruce.

“We’ll have to continue this later, I’m afraid. I believe we have party crashers.”

No sooner were the words out of his mouth than Bruce caught a flicker of movement through the front windows. Time stood still and he took a deep breath, hands curling into fists. Then chaos erupted. Glass exploded inwards, followed by smoke. The music continued playing but it was drowned out by screams, the first wave of panic spreading through the crowd. He could see a few dark smears of blood, spindly figures emerging from the smoke. But it was the tallest of them, wearing a grotesque mask and spreading his arms victoriously as he emerged, that drew Bruce’s attention.

Scarecrow. He would be craving a hit of fear, unhinged enough to attack the devil himself. Bruce paid no attention to what Crane said; it was obvious why he’d attacked. He wanted the territory, wanted to make a statement, wanted to see if Morningstar could scare him, and wanted to test out whatever new fear toxin he’d concocted. Bruce needed to find Cassandra, needed to contact one of the family for assistance. He hadn’t brought any of his tools with him, any of his gadgets. He could distantly hear Morningstar yelling directions for an exit, the woman who had been tending bar suddenly missing. Looking out over the crowd, he finally spotted his daughter; close by, thankfully, still sticking to the edges and holding Kurogane’s hand tightly. Their gazes met and he plowed through the panic, using his size to his advantage. Just as he reached the girls, Scarecrow and his men began firing into the crowd. Instinctively, he threw his arms around Cassandra and Kurogane, shielded them with his body and pushed them down so they were all crouching.

“Injuries?” he asked, most of his attention focused on the enemy, but paying attention to Cassandra from the corner of his eye.

She shook her head, dark eyes narrowed and hands curled into fists. Once Bruce turned back to her, she signed quickly.

 _Help crowd?_ she asked.

He gave a sharp nod back, knowing that she would be fine. They both had unwavering faith in her skills, knew that she could protect those who needed it and haul any people who were injured out of the building.

“Stick to the edges, move fast. If you get an opportunity to take out a threat, do so with caution. Priority is protecting civilians,” he said. “Send out emergency protocol.”

Dick was in Bludhaven for the night, Duke was still training and worked only during the day. But he knew that Tim would be quick to respond, once he knew Scarecrow was involved. And Jason, too, once he realized that his partner and sister were both present at the scene. The police would, hopefully, show up quickly as well. But until then, Bruce and Cassandra would have to tread carefully. Kurogane flinched, curled in tight on herself and shuddered as another round of darts were fired, a few of them missing them by a mere inch or two.

“Go,” he ordered Cass.

But she didn’t immediately leap into action. She hesitated for a moment, looking at her friend, then back at him.

 _Keep her safe,_ she signed.

When he gave another sharp nod as an answer, she slipped into the crowd, disappearing. Bruce took a deep breath, put a hand on Kurogane’s shoulder. She was shivering, flinched at the touch and stared at him with wide eyes, color draining from her face.

“We need to go. Can you run?” he asked, trying to keep his voice low, calm.

Slowly, she nodded. He kept himself between her and the enemy, hand pressing against her back as they both stayed low and tried to make a dash for the exit. But there were too many bodies crowded around it, people trampling one another in their rush to get out, others writing on the floor as they succumbed to the toxin, a cacophony of screams drowning out all other noise. There had to be another way out. Eyes flicking back to the bar, he steered Kurogane towards it, cursing under his breath as the lights above them shattered, raining down broken glass. But they both kept moving, ducked behind the bar. There was a doorway, to the kitchen, to the back. If they could find a place to hide, tuck themselves in the dark, it wouldn’t be much longer until _someone_ showed up.

Kurogane stumbled, fell, let out a muted sound of pain. Bruce started to turn, to help her back up to her feet. But a long arm reached over the bar, spindly fingers covered in sharp tipped gloves closing over the back of her neck and hauling her up to her feet. Wincing in pain, she tensed as Scarecrow vaulted over the bar. The gloves pierced the skin at the back of her throat, a few thin trickles of blood welling. A hot, molten, all consuming rage swelled in Bruce’s chest, eyes narrowed and teeth bared as Crane laughed.

“How fortuitous!” he crowed, eyes flashing with a feverish madness through the holes in his mask. “I get to make an example of the devil and, what do you know, Bruce Wayne and the Kurokawa brat are both here for me to make an example of as well. It took me so long to engineer something that the good doctor couldn’t cure so easily, and—”

His ranting was cut off as Kurogane elbowed him in the gut. Hard. The air audibly rushed from his lungs and he doubled over. Hand releasing the back of her neck, she stomped down hard on his foot as well before rushing away from Crane. Bruce reached out for her, let her press against him, shivering, breaths coming in quick, panicked gasps. For a moment, he let her hold him, pressed a comforting hand against her back. Then he carefully pushed her away. Moved her behind him, removed his suit coat and draped it over her shoulders.

“Go hide in the kitchen,” he told her, carefully pressing her back, trying to get her to take the first few steps away. “Don’t come out, no matter what.”

She stared up at him with wide eyes, glass shards glittering in her hair, shaking fingers clutching at the coat. Her eyes darted to Crane behind him, retching and still recovering from the sharp blow, before she looked back at him.

 _You’ll come back?_ she signed.

Bruce inhaled sharply. Rolling up the sleeves of his button up shirt, he nodded. Tried his best to smile through the rage.

“I will. Go.”

He didn’t have to repeat himself. She ducked through the door, darted out of sight. Taking another deep breath, Bruce finished rolling up his sleeves and stared down Crane. He’d managed to catch his breath, what was visible of his face contorted in rage.

“What are you gonna do, Wayne?” he snarled. “Throw some of daddy’s money at me?”

“No.” Letting anger slip into his voice, Bruce growled. Made sure not to slip into his Batman voice, kept it all Bruce, all righteous fury. “But Waynes take care of their own.”

He cracked his knuckles, advanced on Crane. The secret with Scarecrow was that he was nothing without his toxin. A chemist, mad with his own perceived power, the fear that he inflicted in others. But Bruce wasn’t afraid of him. Knew the dart gun was empty. Glass crunched as he took another step, drew himself up, made himself look even bigger than he already was. Cracked his neck and bared his teeth in a furious grin.

“I’ll make it quick,” Bruce snarled, grabbing Crane by the front of his tattered shirt, cocking his fist, and smashing it into his nose.

Crane stumbled back, hands scrabbling at his mask, at the blood that was already blossoming across it. Bruce shoved him back against the bar, the next blow catching Crane in the jaw, the crack echoing even over the screams, the sirens that approached. From the corner of his eye, he saw a small figure pounce on one of Crane’s men, taking him down. Cassandra, deadly, skilled Cassandra, doing what she could. Bruce caught the punch that Crane tried to throw, grabbed him by the face and smashed the back of his head against the bar. Bruce drove his knee up into Crane’s gut when he slumped forward, caught him by the back of his head and drove it into a row of liquor behind them. Letting go, he watched Crane slump, unconscious, to the ground. Shaking out his hand, he dumped the man over the other side of the bar, let him land with a loud, painful sounding thud. It was fine that he’d been a little too good, hit a little too hard. Crane would never admit to having the shit beaten out of him by clueless trust fund boy Bruce Wayne.

The police would be there soon. Cassandra stood, the last of the henchman splayed unconscious on the floor. Quick, efficient. Pride bloomed where rage had been, and he gave his daughter a sharp nod of approval. She glanced at the blue and red lights flashing closer and closer, held up a dart.

 _RR,_ she signed with the other hand.

Bruce nodded again. Tim was likely en route, or watching from a distance now that GCPD had rolled up. He’d want a sample to examine, to break down so that an antidote could be synthesized. It would also be best for her to not be present when the police showed up, so that he could claim that he’d ordered her to run and hadn’t seen whoever had taken out the villains. Loosening his tie, he pushed the door to the back open, took another deep breath to try and smother the last smoldering embers of his anger. Being visibly angry would only make things worse. He stepped into the kitchen, spotted a bit of movement from the corner of his eye near the walk-in. Making sure that she could hear him approach, Bruce knelt down in front of the counter Delphi had curled up under.

Shaking, hugging herself, making herself as small as she could, tear tracks on her cheeks. Smiling as warmly, as gently as she could, Bruce held his hand out to her, knuckles bruising, blood smeared across the back of it.

“You’re safe now, Delphi,” he whispered, using the nickname that his son had given her. “I’ll stay with you, until the cops find us.”

A small part of his heart cracked when she curled her shaking fingers around his own, sniffled, and answered his smile with one of her own.

\---

“And you didn’t see any of the fight?”

Kurogane shook her head in response to the detective’s question, clutching Bruce’s coat closer around her. The police had moved her to the front of the club, let her sit down on the steps as they gently questioned her. Morningstar had been there for a moment, helped interpret when she signed, before he’d had to leave to deal with the rest of the fallout, assess the damage that had been done and get in touch with some of his ‘contacts’. Bruce had finished his own interview only a few minutes before, acting abashed and shaken as he lied to the police, said that he hadn’t seen much either, had been too busy getting Kurogane somewhere safe to hide. He hung back, far enough that the detective wouldn’t notice that he was eavesdropping, but close enough to hear the conversation.

“We should get you to one of the paramedics, let them look you over, Miss Kurogane. It won’t take—”

She shook her head violently, curled further in on herself. Shut the detective out. Heaving a sigh, the woman snapped her notebook shut and stood up.

“If you do remember anything, let me know.” A business card was offered, taken with shaking fingers and tucked out of sight. “Get home safe.”

Waiting until the detective was out of sight, the rest of the police moving further away, inside the club, Bruce approached Kurogane, slipping his phone back into his pocket and staring out across the street. The flashing lights on the patrol cars had become a blur, clouds obscuring the night sky and a low rumble of thunder foretelling that a storm was coming. He stood next to her, remained quiet for a moment. She curled further in on herself, hair hanging in her face and arms wrapped tightly around her stomach. The tights she wore were torn, scrapes on her palms and knees from when she’d fallen, been cut by glass. There were still a few shards in her hair, glittering in the strobing lights.

She looked so, so small. The coat swallowed her whole, sleeves falling well past her fingertips and the bottom hem falling almost as low as the skirt of her dress. Bruce fought the urge to brush the last few bits of glass from her hair, to comfort her. Despite what had happened, he was all too aware of how she was afraid of him, and how he was afraid of what Jason had told her about him. All deserved, of course. But it still stung, if he was honest with himself. He cleared his throat, glanced down at her. She raised her head ever so slightly, turned it just enough that he knew he had her attention.

“I got in touch with Jason. He’s on his way to come get you.” If he’d had a direct line to Kurokawa or the elder Kurogane, he would have gotten in touch with them first. But Liliya was the one who always contacted Kurokawa, and the thought of asking Nana Kurogane for anything sent a chill down his spine. “He’ll hopefully be here soon.”

From the long string of expletives that Jason had sent back to Bruce’s curt text informing him of the incident, he also suspected that his son would be breaking quite a few traffic laws on the way. Steeling himself, he looked back out across the street.

“I’d like to sit here with you, until he arrives,” Bruce said. “If that’s okay.”

Careful, wanting to respect her boundaries. Kurogane brushed her hair back from her face, a few glittering bits of glass dust falling from it. There was a sharp vulnerability to her expression when she looked up at him, nose red and eyes bloodshot from tears she’d quickly wiped away. It was a sharp echo of the look he’d seen in Dick’s eyes when he’d sought revenge for his parents’ murder, the way Jason had always looked as a child when he brought up his step-mother, the look Cassandra had first given him when he’d found her. Slowly, she nodded, looked back away from him. Bruce sat, careful to give her a bit of space and lacing his fingers together, elbows braced on his knees.

“That blow you hit Scarecrow with… Cassandra taught that to you, didn’t she?” he asked, keeping his voice low, soft, gentle.

She nodded again, watched him from the corner of her eye the same way he watched her. There was a piercing quality to it, her gaze, even half-hearted, seeming to cut right through him. He leaned forward, turned to face her properly and smiled.

“I thought so. She talks a lot about her lessons with you. Sign language, yoga, self-defense… It’s good for her.”

Something almost approaching a smile tugged at the corner of the girl’s lips, and she sniffled, giving another small nod.

“Just one tip, from me to you?”

Another nod as she shifted to face him, curious look in her eye.

“Go for the groin.” Bruce grinned, was glad to see her smile in return. “Don’t be afraid to deal out a little more pain. It was a good hit.”

 _Thank you,_ she signed. She paused for a moment, searching his expression for… something. He wasn’t sure what, had to fight the urge to squirm. _For what you did._

Ah. He shrugged, smile going a bit soft.

“Jason would never forgive me if something had happened to you,” he said, deflecting. Trying to shrug off the weight of her gratitude. “Your mothers would have gutted me in public, too.”

A small, silent snicker, dimples flashing when she smiled. But the expression fell away and she dropped her gaze, taking a deep breath.

 _I’m sorry that I couldn’t help,_ she signed.

“I didn’t expect you to. Neither did Cassandra. I suspect that your uncle would have been furious if you had tried and gotten hurt.” Bruce hesitated for a moment, clearing his throat and unlacing his fingers. “There’s no shame in being scared.”

She didn’t look convinced, expression rapidly darkening.

“Do you want to know a secret?” he asked, leaning just a bit closer, voice dropping.

Kurogane blinked up at him, visibly confused for a moment before she gave a slow nod.

“When I was your age, I was scared all the time. Terrified, constantly. Of failing myself, failing the memory of my parents. Failing everyone around me. If I had been in your shoes, back then? I wouldn’t have been nearly as brave. Would have gotten myself and everyone around me hurt.” Bruce let out a long sigh. “You were brave in the face of something very scary. Not just now, but… from what Jason and Cassandra have told me about how you grew up. Bravery comes from fear. And it’s okay to still be scared. What happened was scary for everyone. Me, included.”

A silence fell between them. When he heard her breath hitch, he turned away, gave her a bit of privacy. Kurogane wiped at her face with shaking, blood-streaked hands. Wordlessly, he set his hand palm-up next to her. After a moment, Bruce felt warm, thin fingers curl around his own and give a tiny squeeze. He returned it, held her little hand in his own and stared up at the dark clouds. When she leaned into him, he let her, held her hand just a little bit tighter until her tears dried and her breathing evened out.

Bruce Wayne was not a good person. He was quick to anger, possessive of his city and his family, bad at showing how he felt and even worse at communicating it. But he knew what it was like to be scared, ashamed of that fear, trying desperately to cling to bravery. He realized, as Mai Kurogane rested her head on his shoulder, that all it had taken to reach out to her was a little kindness, a little comfort. And, at least until Jason showed up, he did his best to provide it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bruce wayne is emotionally stunted, socially awkward, and has a temper but deep down has a heart of gold and loves all his kids and you CANNOT tell me otherwise. bruce sees a scared, traumatized kid/young adult and the Adoption Instinct kicks in
> 
> sumiko kurokawa belongs to [the lovely, wonderful, talented mari!](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bringmetea)
> 
> thanks as always for reading. love y'all.


	13. In the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason and Delphi come to terms with their experience in Nightmare's realm
> 
> (a Dragon Age: Inquisition AU that no one asked for)
> 
> chapter warnings: non-explicit and brief mention of childhood abuse

Jason woke in a cold sweat, breath caught in his chest and fear coating the back of his throat, thick and bitter. Running his hands over his face, the qunari warrior took measured breaths, took a moment to ground himself. In the week since Adamant Fortress, since he, Hawke, Koshka, the Warden Alistair, and Delphi had been in the Fade, his dreams had turned into nightmares, waking him throughout the night and leaving him covered in sweat and shaking until he finally found a way to regain his composure. Part of him wondered if it was the work of the Nightmare they’d faced off against in the Fade, but the logical part of him knew that it was simply because he was traumatized. The Nightmare was dead. He’d seen it ripped to shreds, devoured, heard its dying screams.

Forcing himself to cut off that line of thinking (he _really_ did not need to be reliving any of that), he glanced around the camp quickly, counting off his companions. Hawke had sent them off to the Emerald Graves, busy in the Hissing Wastes himself taking down Venatori, and the ruins they’d set up camp in were haunting in the dark, lit only by the stars and veilfire sconces that would burn through the night. Areum and Hyunjin, the Dalish hunters who’d been sent by their clan, were both sleeping soundly on their sleeping bags, their wolf companions curled up at their feet. Koshka and Dick had both set up on the far side of the camp site, the Warden always trying to keep her distance and his adoptive elven brother refusing to let her isolate herself. Everyone had heard one of her night terrors before, and Dick had taken it upon himself to try to offer some comfort to the prickly human woman. Tim was asleep as well, the mage curled into a tight ball and the tome he’d been studying still open beside him.

One cot was empty, one person unaccounted for along with her staff, and Jason felt a cold thrill of fear go down his spine. Moving as quickly and as quietly as he could, he stood from the tree trunk he’d been sleeping against, grabbing his sword and leaving the campsite.

While Jason had been suffering as quietly as he could after their experience in the Fade, Delphi had visibly taken it hard. Not that he could blame her. Not only had she had some of her worst fears laid out for her (“Child of no one, child of nothing, identity stripped and heart like a storm, just a scared little girl terrified of becoming a monster,” the Nightmare had said), but she’d learned of her parentage in… quite possibly the worst way she could have. The Nightmare had been bearing down on them, Hawke had stepped in front of Delphi to protect her from a blow, and then two other monsters had appeared, killed the Nightmare in front of them. They had been inscrutable in the Fade, one seeming to take the form of a fox beast with multiple tails and the other dark and formless, a collection of eyes and limbs that didn’t seem to match; but even upon perceiving what they had seemed to be in Nightmare’s realm, there had been a feeling that there was more, that there was something else and their appearances could change in the blink of an eye, something beyond perception beneath the surface. One had feasted on the Nightmare, dark blood matting the illusion of fur, while the other claimed Delphi as their lost child.

After an entire life spent making peace with the fact she would never know her family, trying to move past the abuses and horrors of the Circle in Kirkwall, she’d had to accept that her two mothers, the beings who brought her into the world, were monstrous. Although they looked like elves when they’d come to Skyhold, with Hawke’s permission as Inquisitor and his protection (so long as they didn’t eat anyone other than Red Templars or the Venatori), they weren’t. Even the members of the Inquisition who hadn’t seen their forms in the Fade knew it, something about the two women just being… _other_. Some had accepted it surprisingly well, reasoned that this was still _Delphi,_ and no matter who her mothers were, she was still gentle and kind and far from being monstrous. But there were others who hadn’t taken it well. There had been quiet whispers in the dark, pleas for Hawke to send his arcane advisor and her demon mothers away.

He’d tried to give Delphi space, tried to respect that she needed to make peace with this new information on her own. But she’d become more and more distant with each passing day, barely spoke at all, volunteered for menial tasks like gathering herbs and scouting ahead for potential campsites so that she would be alone. Cole, being a weird, squirrely spirit, was the only one who had really been able to quietly speak with her. But he was out in the Hissing Wastes now with Hawke, wasn’t there to approach Jason and quietly share what he could about Delphi’s mind and heart to try and soothe his worries.

In Skyhold, he’d let her have her space, hadn’t tried to hunt her down when he hadn’t found her in her room or in the spot in the gardens where she liked to read. But out here, out in the Emerald Graves with Red Templars and Freemen stalking the verdant forests, the thought of her being out and alone was sending him spiraling into a panic. Delphi could protect herself, of course; he’d seen her open rifts to rain down a meteoric shower on enemies, had seen her call storms and lightning during battle. But as she was, tired and sad and shaken, she would make a much easier target. Eyes adjusting to the darkness, he tracked her, followed the little footprints that he knew were hers, snapped branches and the remnants of elfroot and crystal grace that had been harvested.

It was easier to find her than he had expected. Like there was something that had pulled him towards her, a strange gravity to her that drew him in, not just his tracking skills. The elf mage had curled up in a hollow of the giant, twisting roots of a towering tree, a little witchlight hovering over her shoulder and her head bent over an old tome. The pale blue light of her witchlight made her skin look washed out, her silver hair looking paler than it had before. Jason approached as loudly as he dared, didn’t want to startle her when he reached her. But she didn’t look up from her book, only curled further in on herself, her staff leaning against the trunk next to her. When he reached her, Jason balked for a moment. He’d been in such a rush that he hadn’t taken the frustrating amount of time it required to put on a shirt, knew his hair was a mess and his curling horns were likely peeling a bit, since he hadn’t applied balm to them in a few days.

Although he knew why it bothered him to look like a mess in front of her, he refused to confront that at the moment. Instead, he cleared his throat, sitting down on the root not on her blind side and setting his sword down next to him. Delphi finally looked up at him, the witchlight flickering next to her the only indication of any surprise on her part. The dark rings under her eyes had only gotten darker, and she did not speak up. Just stared up at him, with eyes that had looked hazel once but which he could now see a dark red tint to, much like one of her mothers.

“Hey,” he said, keeping his voice low and soft. “Couldn’t sleep?”

After a long beat of silence, she sighed, marking her place in the tome and closing it. Her shoulders slumped under an invisible weight, the flowers that Areum had bullied her into letting her weave into her braided hair already beginning to wilt.

“No,” she answered. He realized with a start, at the sound of her voice, that he hadn’t heard her speak more than a word at a time since they’d left Skyhold and arrived in the Emerald Graves that morning. “You should get back to camp.”

The gentle rejection stung. Jason was tempted to slink back to camp, tail tucked between his legs like a kicked dog to lick his wounds. Instead, he remained, bracing his elbows on his knees and trying his best to offer her a kind smile. Comforting people wasn’t really something he was good at, but he missed having her shift into a cat, napping on his shoulders and pawing at his horns. He missed exchanging books with her, discussing the novels they had delivered from Val Royeaux and Redcliffe, quiet moments of companionship with someone who had never looked at him differently because of his qunari heritage, who knew what it was like to be a stranger to their own culture.

“I think I’d like to stay here with you,” he told her, clasping his hands together to hide the way they shook with nerves at the thought of her rejecting him again. “Not safe to be out here by yourself in the middle of the night.”

Delphi stared up at him, expression still unreadable, before she finally cracked, looking away from him as she sighed. Setting aside her book, she ran her hands over her face, the witchlight still hovering over her shoulder.

“You don’t have to do that, Jason,” she said, hugging her knees to her chest, staring down at the ground. “I’m sorry for worrying you.”

“I’m not the only one worried about you, you know.” Jason moved to sit down in front of her, legs crossed and fingers twitching with a desire to reach out and touch her, comfort her however he could. But he let his hands curl into fists, stuffed that desire as far down as he could. “Your mom, Sumiko… she pulled me aside right before we left Skyhold and asked me to look out for you. She and Nanashi are worried about you. She said you’d barely talked to either of them, hadn’t been eating.”

Groaning, Delphi buried her face in her knees. But in the cold light, Jason could see that the tips of her pointed ears had gone cherry red, twitched in embarrassment. With a patience that was uncharacteristic, he waited, gave her time to gather her thoughts. When she finally lifted her head to look at him, there was a quiet fear in her eyes.

“How… do you feel about my mothers?” she asked, voice shaking.

Ah, there it was. The question that she had been too afraid to ask any of them, which Cole had whispered to him that she was certain would be answered with fear and revulsion. Jason ran a hand over his jaw, scratched at the dark stubble that had already grown there.

“Well,” he said, speaking carefully, “they’re both a little… unnerving, honestly. I was afraid of them at first after what happened in the Fade. Then I was angry that they hadn’t done more earlier to find you and take you away from the Kirkwall Circle, protect you from everything that happened there. But I guess Hawke told them that we’re, uh… close. So I talked to them a bit, before Hawke sent us out here. Sumiko is nice. She cares a lot about you, feels guilty that this was how you met them and that it’s causing you so much pain. She told me about the talks she had with you, only what she felt was appropriate to share. Nanashi is…” He hesitated. “She’s intense. Kind of scary to talk to, since she’s some kind of nightmare-demon… thing. But it’s clear that she cares about you.”

Grinning, he gave a small shrug.

“So, I guess I like them. They’re weird and kind of scary, but their intentions are good, and they care about you. That’s all that matters, honestly,” he said, hoping his sincerity was clear in his expression, in his words.

Delphi simply watched him, her gaze unnerving, making him feel once more like she was peeling back flesh and bone to see the parts of himself that he tried to hide. Stripping him down to his heart and soul, her sharp eyes never seeming to miss anything. Hugging herself even tighter, she looked away, the witchlight dimming ever so slightly.

“When I went through my Harrowing, there was a little fox spirit who helped guide me through it, kept me safe from any spirits becoming demons and showed me things I needed to see. I just… thought it was a kind spirit attracted to my appearance in the Fade, that maybe it had helped other apprentices who were… too young for what they had to face. Like me.” Her eyes shone, but she blinked rapidly, keeping any tears that had threatened to fall from escaping. “I use my fox form so much because of that spirit. I didn’t… I didn’t know that spirit was my _mother._ She guided me through it and kept me safe and I never knew. She was right there and I… I didn’t…”

Trailing off, she buried her face in her knees again. Jason’s heart cracked, his breath catching as he watched her shoulders hitch, fingers curling in the fabric of her leggings. Before he could stop himself, he reached out, rested his hand on her head, stroked her hair. A small shudder passed through her and he feared that he’d crossed a line, an apology already on the tip of his tongue. But then she threw herself forward, buried her face in his chest and clutched at him. Jason froze, hands hovering, uncertain what to do. Even for an elf, Delphi was so _small,_ the top of her head barely coming up to his chest when they stood next to each other, and her arms couldn’t quite wrap all the way around him. It was when he felt the warm slide of her tears on his skin that he snapped out of his uncertainty, pulled her closer and held her as gently as he could.

Burying his face in her hair, Jason took a deep breath, let her familiar smell wash over him, herbal and comforting. Her fingers curled against his bare back, the gentle scrape of her nails sending a small shudder through him. Keeping an iron-clad grip on his self-control, Jason cradled her as she wept, rubbed a hand against her back in what he hoped was a comforting motion. When she finally pulled back, wiped frantically at her face, he tucked a stray bit of hair behind her ear, fingers brushing against the delicate skin for a moment before he let his arms drop from around her.

 _Maker,_ he wanted to hold her longer. But he didn’t want to be selfish, knew that it was a slippery slope. Delphi tried to smile up at him, but it was shaky, watery, her eyes puffy and bloodshot.

“Sorry,” she murmured, wiping the last trace of her tears away with the back of her hand. She was still wearing her fingerless gloves, tugged at them as she looked away from him. “I just…”

“Don’t apologize.” Jason felt a small pang when she scooted back against the tree trunk, still within reach but no longer pressed warm and soft against him. Clearing his throat, he ran his fingers through his hair, trying and likely failing to smooth it out. “We’ve been through a _lot_ since Adamant. I just… I don’t want you to think that you have to hold it all in, Delphi. I’m here for you, and who or what your parents are hasn’t changed anything for me.”

“Thank you.” This time, her smile was closer to genuine. Taking a deep breath, she reached up for the witchlight, the little crystal orb dimming at her touch. Delphi didn’t stand yet, though, just cradled the little light in her hands before looking back up at him. “I’m here for you, too. I haven’t been a very good friend. I… I know what the Nightmare said about you hurt you.”

A beast masquerading as a person, always one step away from losing himself and giving in to the sensitivity to the Veil that his brief experience with death during the qunari invasion of Kirkwall had cursed him with. The Nightmare was right, of course. That was why it had haunted him, why he sometimes stared at his reflection longer, searching for any sign that he was becoming a danger to everyone around him. Jason hesitated, not sure how to respond to her. That he was sorry he hadn’t been a good friend, either? That he was sorry she’d seen his anger flare, hot and explosive after what the Nightmare had said? That it was all true, and he was afraid she’d get hurt because of him? Before he could find a good answer, Delphi had leaned forward again, rested a hand over his own. The silver ring on her finger, the one she’d gotten after her Harrowing, glinted in the dimmed light of the orb in her other hand.

“What it said wasn’t true,” she told him, voice soft and a warm sincerity in her eyes that made his heart ache. “You’re a good man, Jason. You have a good heart. No matter what happens in the future, you’ll always have your family, your friends.”

There was a soft, unspoken reassurance that he would always have her, too. Jason didn’t want to read into it too much, held back from turning his hand over and linking his fingers with hers. He wanted to believe her, but there was always a nasty little whisper in the back of his head reminding him that it was only a matter of time. That he’d lost control once and he’d do it again. That the love he had was conditional and it was only a matter of time before he lost it all. He tried to smile and held back a disappointed sigh when she pulled back to retrieve her book and her staff.

“Ready to head back to camp?” he asked. “If you want to stay out here a little longer…”

“No.” She sighed, stood up and leaned on her staff, visibly exhausted. “I should at least try to sleep. You should, too.”

“Yeah, long day ahead of us tomorrow.” Jason groaned as he stood, bracing his hands on his lower back so he could stretch it out, work out the kinks from sitting down on the hard ground. He thought he heard Delphi make a choked sound, but when he glanced over at her, her attention was focused on her witchlight. “I think the others would appreciate it if you stuck with us.”

Sighing, she looked back up at him, reluctant for a moment. But she caved as quickly as he suspected she would. For all her shyness, Jason knew that Delphi thrived with companionship. Her self-isolation would only damage her further, and he selfishly wanted to keep her from crying again. He wanted to see her _happy_ for once, not quietly suffering as she had been for so long.

“Okay,” she sighed. “I managed to gather enough herbs to keep us stocked up on healing supplies for a while, anyways.”

Pleased that he’d gotten her to open up a bit, had started the long process of coaxing her out of her isolation, Jason retrieved his sword and let her lead the way back to camp, her witchlight held aloft and lighting the way. He was careful to keep his strides short, all too aware of how easy it would be to make her struggle to keep up with him. A quiet silence stretched between them on the way back, the trees that towered above them quiet sentinels. There were enemies lurking somewhere in the darkness, but Jason felt relaxed as they crept back into camp. The wards that Tim had placed were strong, would hold up if anyone did discover the camp. Extinguishing the witchlight and stashing it in her bag, Delphi laid her staff down as well and pulled off her light overcoat, the tunic underneath thin. Jason looked away quickly, focused on settling back down on his makeshift bed, back propped up against the trunk. With his horns, he couldn’t sleep laying down like the others without puncturing pillows and waking up with a weird cramp in his neck.

By the time he’d gotten settled, comfortable and with his sword resting within arm’s reach, exhaustion had crept up on him once again, making it hard to keep his eyes open. When he glanced over at Delphi’s sleeping bag, he was momentarily alarmed when he didn’t see her. But the panic faded as he felt a soft, fuzzy body press against his. Glancing down, Jason smiled at the little silver fox staring back up at him. It had been a while since they’d camped together, since she’d shifted and slept next to him. But he welcomed it, scooped her up so that she could curl up on his chest. The warmth of her fur was welcome, her bushy tail curling around his wrist as he stroked her fur. Her ears twitched and she stared up at him for a moment longer before she pressed her head against his jaw, a gesture that was much more cat-like than vulpine, but one that he appreciated. Quiet, careful affection, something he wanted from her but never had the guts to ask for.

Before long, his eyes were drifting shut, his fingers curled into her soft fur and the soft sound of her breathing coaxing him into a deep, dreamless sleep. It wasn’t much, and they still had a long way to go before either of them would be okay again. Delphi still had her past to reckon with, family that she’d written off barging into her life, one a creature of darkness and nightmares who had once been elven but plunged into a despair that changed her once her child was stolen, one a being older than even Corypheus, not quite an elf and not quite a spirit, either. Jason still struggled with his sensitivity to the tears in reality, the weakening of the Veil affecting him in ways he had not confessed to anyone other than Dick and Hawke, terrified that he’d fall into madness.

But for one night, they found a quiet comfort in one another, neither able to express how they felt for the other in words, but hoping that for at least a few hours their silent affections would convey more than any words ever could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you've been following me over on [tumblr](https://spidergwenn.tumblr.com/), then you know that i've been re-playing dragon age: inquisition while trying to distract myself from the US election (it ended well, so yay for that!). and, naturally, i made delphi as inquisitor in the game. which led to a whole dragon age au bc that's just how my brain works. i'd originally had jason as a city elf but after talking a bit to mari, we agreed that the Aesthetic of qunari!jason is just....... too good. 
> 
> some little bits here for background:  
> -dick is an elf rogue born in a rivaini alienage who was adopted by bruce after his parents were killed and used his charm as a bit of a weapon since his being an elf was, uh.... not received well  
> -tim is a human mage who did not grow up in a circle, as his parents were nobility and paid off templars to look the other way. bruce also adopted him after his parents were killed  
> -jason's (amended) backstory is that his parents were tal vashoth, so he never grew up under the qun. they died when he was young and he fended for himself on the streets, before being adopted by bruce. he was assumed dead after the qunari invasion of kirkwall, worked as a mercenary, and eventually came back to his family  
> -bruce's family are kirkwall nobility, he backed the inquisition financially at first as he tried to help out in kirkwall, but after news of redcliffe and venatori involvment, they all joined the inquisition as agents  
> -the inquisitor here is a male mage hawke because i just think inquisitor hawke is fun. small amendment here as well that he met delphi during the mage rebellion and ran away from kirkwall with her, carver, and anders. hawke went to the temple of sacred ashes, became the herald of andraste, and brought delphi on as his "arcane advisor" while anders and carver remained elsewhere so they were safe from the fake calling corypheus created  
> -nana is... well, she WAS an elf, but when delphi was stolen from her and sumiko as an infant, she performed a ritual that turned her into -something vaguely demonic so that she could hunt down templars in revenge  
> -delphi is an elven mage who grew up in the kirkwall circle and specializes in shapeshifting magic, areum and hyunjin are dalish elf rangers with wolf companions who were sent to the inqusition as envoys, and koshka is a human rogue and a grey warden who joined the inquisition after the first reports of missing wardens, terrified of the Calling she was hearing
> 
> sumiko belongs to [the amazing mari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bringmetea), who proofread this and gave me feedback


End file.
